A Compromised Lady (5 page)

He grimaced. Almeria would be looking for every opportunity to throw them together. Was he really going to be so foolish as to assist her? A memory of grey eyes that should have been blue suggested that he was.

He sighed. It would probably be polite to inform Braybrook in person that he no longer had a houseguest.

Julian, Lord Braybrook, received the news that his guest of twenty-four hours would be departing, with a suspicious degree of sangfroid.

He laid down his pen, leaned back in his desk chair and said merely, ‘Ah.’ Not at all as though the news came as a surprise.

Richard eyed him warily.

‘Food not up to standard, old chap?’ enquired Braybrook in tones of polite interest. ‘Bed unaired?’

Richard grinned. ‘Indigestible. And damned chilly. How the devil did you find out so fast?’

‘Thanks,’ said Braybrook drily. ‘For God’s sake, Ricky! Are you mad? As for how I found out—I have just sustained a visit from the outraged brother!’

‘Winslow?’

‘She’s only got the one,’ said Braybrook.

Richard nodded slowly. ‘I’d forgotten you were friendly. He’s not been in town much the last few years.’

‘No,’ said Braybrook. ‘But he recalled that I was also acquainted with you. You may imagine my surprise when he informed me that you were staying with Lady Arnsworth.’ He shot Richard an odd glance. ‘I was under the impression you planned to seek out lodgings.’

‘It’s not what it looks like,’ said Richard, rather shocked to realise that his teeth were gritted.

‘Of course not. And I do hope you will appreciate my discretion in not informing Winslow that your sojourn with Lady Arnsworth is of such recent date.’

‘Dammit, Julian! I didn’t even know Miss Winslow was expected when Almeria persuaded me to stay!’

‘Then what did persuade you?’ He flung up a hand as Richard glared at him. ‘Oh, don’t be a gudgeon! I know you aren’t the sort to dangle after heiresses! I even did my best to reassure Winslow on that head; but I will admit to a very human curiosity about what possible cause you could have for staying with Lady Arnsworth!’ He grinned. ‘Apart from my unaired beds and the indigestible food.’

Despite his annoyance, Richard laughed. Damn. Telling Julian that in some odd way he was worried about Thea would have the fellow leaping to all sorts of unwarranted conclusions. Instead he fell back on his original reason for accepting. ‘Almeria is still very bitter about Max’s marriage, you know,’ he said.

Braybrook looked rather self-conscious. ‘So I hear.’

Something about his voice alerted Richard. ‘Yes?’

‘I had a letter from Serena,’ said Braybrook.

Richard nodded. Serena, Lady Braybrook, was the previous Lord Braybrook’s widow. Julian’s stepmother. Almeria had long considered it her duty to keep the invalid Lady Braybrook fully apprised of her stepson’s indiscretions.

‘Yes?’

‘Lady Arnsworth had written to her.’

Richard suppressed a grin at the irritation in his voice. ‘Ah. Giving her advice on how to marry you off?’

Braybrook snorted. ‘Precisely. Citing Max as a fearful example of what happens when a man is left to his own devices in the matter.’

‘Annoying,’ replied Richard, ‘but there’s nothing new in that. She said as much to me this afternoon. She’s doubly furious because of the expected baby.’

The blue eyes narrowed. ‘Maybe. Did she also express doubts about the child’s paternity?’

‘What?’

‘No. I didn’t think she’d have said that to you. Obviously you don’t have to worry about it going any further, but she hinted at it in her letter to Serena.’

Richard swore. ‘Is she still harping on that? She said something to that effect last year.’

‘To you?’

‘And Max,’ said Richard grimly.

Braybrook’s jaw dropped. ‘That would explain why Max is at outs with her.’

‘Exactly,’ said Richard. ‘Which is why I agreed to stay with her,’ he went on. ‘To try to convince her that Max’s marriage has not consigned me to poverty, before she says something to create a permanent breach between herself and Max!’

A sceptical brow lifted. ‘And questioning the child’s paternity to his face hasn’t done that already?’

Richard grimaced. ‘Not quite. Max doesn’t want a breach any more than I do, but if it comes to a choice between Almeria or protecting Verity—’ He broke off. ‘You know what he will do.’

Braybrook made a rude noise. ‘Slight understatement there, Ricky. If it came to a choice between the entire world and protecting Lady Blakehurst, Max would consign the lot of us to perdition!’

Richard smiled. ‘True.’

Braybrook looked curious. ‘You know, Ricky—I’ve never quite understood just why Lady Arnsworth was so fixated on Max remaining single?’

Richard frowned. ‘Max never told you?’

‘I never asked.’

He nodded. ‘It was my accident that started it. Mama and Almeria blamed Max for daring me to ride the cursed horse. Never mind that I was perfectly capable of saying no to him, he’d suggested it and therefore it was all his fault. Later, I was supposed to go into the army—Mama insisted that my leg made that unsuitable, and that Max should be bought a commission instead.’

‘What else did they have in mind for him?’ asked Julian.

‘The church, if you can believe it.’

A most peculiar choking sound came from Lord Braybrook.

‘Quite,’ said Richard. ‘I think he preferred the army on the whole. He was a damn sight better suited to it than I was.’ He sighed. ‘And then Freddy died not long after our father. And suddenly Max was the earl. But instead of demanding that he settle down and secure the succession, both Mama and Almeria decided between them that he owed it to me to remain single!’

‘How very melodramatic of them,’ observed Julian.

Richard snorted. ‘I didn’t take it seriously, but Max did. He always blamed himself for my accident anyway and Mama and Almeria had rubbed it in with a vengeance over the years.’

Braybrook’s mouth twitched. ‘And, of course, it’s plain to the meanest intelligence that you yourself are bitterly disappointed in being cut out of an earldom,’ he said drily.

‘Bitterly,’ said Richard, yawning. ‘I’ve enough money for my wants.’

‘And if you don’t,’ said Braybrook, ‘you could always marry Miss Winslow.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘No point cutting off your nose to spite your face, you know. After all, she might be your perfect bride!’

‘As long as her brother doesn’t shoot me first,’ said Richard sarcastically.

Unholy amusement gleamed in bright blue eyes. ‘A risk, of course. Mind you, it would certainly calm Lady Arnsworth down to see you safely legshackled to an heiress!’ He grinned. ‘Proof positive that your game leg and Max’s marriage have not combined to blight your life.’

‘Oh, go to the devil, Julian,’ recommended Richard.

All the same, the flippant advice niggled at him as he blew out his bedside lamp later that night, after walking back to Arnsworth House, as it had done all through dinner and numerous hands of piquet afterwards. A circumstance that had led to Julian relieving him of a vast, if imaginary, fortune.

In the best spare bedchamber, Thea Winslow was probably sound asleep…a thought that had made him very, very edgy as he’d tiptoed past to his own room…It had been a distinct shock to find a sleepy footman waiting up for him. He’d forgotten to keep his voice down as he told the man never to do such a thing again. He hoped it hadn’t disturbed Thea…He pushed the recurring thought of Thea away. Thea Winslow, sleeping peacefully just down the hallway, was no concern of his. Or she ought not to be.

No point cutting off your nose to spite your face…she might be your perfect bride…

Leaving perfect out of it, he had always intended to marry. Marriage had always made complete sense—at some dim, unspecified future time. Apparently the future had arrived. With the purchase of an estate and a London house, marriage was becoming, if not imperative, then at least desirable. All he needed to do was choose the right woman—and of course persuade her that he was the right man. Yes, a sensible, intelligent woman with a sense of humour. She didn’t need to be wealthy, just someone he liked and respected…His stomach clenched—someone who wouldn’t view a child’s broken leg as an interruption to her own life. Someone who wouldn’t mind that her husband had absolutely no ambition to figure in society, but preferred a quiet life in the country with his books and acres, and was happy to remain there with him for the most part. Happy to remain, not self-sacrificing…not complaining that she had nothing to amuse her, and flitting off to yet another house party with her lover—he slammed a lid down on that; there was no point being bitter about the past, but you could learn from it. He added another criterion: honour. He wanted a woman to whom honour was more important than discretion.

Common sense firmly in place, he permitted his thoughts to turn to Thea. He liked her. He always had. She had always been blazingly honest as a child, and young girl, sometimes when it might have been wiser to dissemble a little. And she was loyal—if she had mourned Nigel Lallerton so deeply, he needed no further proof of that. What if she were the right choice for him? The sensible, logical choice…folly to discount her simply because of Almeria’s entirely predictable matchmaking.

She was here in the house. It was the perfect opportunity to find out if she really would suit him.

He caught himself—if they would suit. For all he knew, his bookish habits might drive her to distraction. Or his tendency to leave curls of shaved wood everywhere from his whittling. If their old childhood friendship could become an adult friendship and the basis for a successful marriage…

an irritatingly rational voice suggested that perhaps he was being a little bit too rational about this, that perhaps he might look for a woman to love…after all, love wasn’t ruining Max’s life. Quite the opposite.

He rolled over and punched the pillow. That was all very well, but if he hadn’t fallen in love in thirty-two years, what were the odds of it happening now? A sensible marriage would be far more…sensible. Logical.

Safe.

His father had loved—and look what that had led to…a totally unsuitable choice. Max had been lucky. Damned lucky.

There could be no harm in spending time with Thea, and renewing their friendship. He liked that idea. What he didn’t like was the memory of Thea as he had seen her that afternoon, all the old laughter and liveliness quenched. A feeling that was not in the least sensible stole over him…

whatever had been responsible for the grey shadow in eyes that ought to have been blue—he wanted to remove it.

Hours after going to bed Thea lay waiting for sleep. Perhaps she should light a lamp and read for a while. The strange bed unnerved her…but it was so late. Surely she would sleep if she closed her eyes and emptied her mind. She had become very good at that over the years—keeping her mind utterly blank, refusing to allow emotion to creep in.

But now, back in London, among people who had known her as a child, a young girl—even though her body ached with tiredness, the thoughts and feelings held sleep at bay.

A little spark of anger flared in a dark corner of her heart, a corner she never looked into. From her father’s point of view, her marriage now was an unquestioned necessity. She rolled over and thumped the pillow. She would not, under any circumstances, acquiesce to any match proposed by her father.

The little spark had caught, lighting up the corner. Thea shut her eyes to it, dousing it. She wouldn’t look there. She mustn’t. Better that it remained shadowed. Hidden from the light. If she permitted herself to feel anything again…anger, hurt…even love, she pushed them all away. Safer to remain calm. Unmoved. As untouched as she could ever be.

The news would be all over London that Miss Winslow, only daughter of Viscount Aberfield and heiress to fifty thousand pounds, was residing in Grosvenor Square with Lady Arnsworth. She would be sought out. Courted, flattered, every social distinction pressed upon her.

The thought sickened her.

Money bought acceptance; with fifty thousand pounds, as long as the truth remained a whisper, the past would be ignored by many. Not by all, but many including her own father.

She gritted her teeth. She didn’t want that sort of acceptance anyway. Especially not from Aberfield. Uncle James had shown more understanding and affection for her than her own father.

He had been prepared to believe her innocence and reverse his decision to disinherit her. Aberfield had reinstated her only because of the money. It was easier somehow to think of him as Aberfield, not Papa. It wasn’t as though he wanted her as his daughter. All he wanted was for her money to secure a husband of benefit to himself.

A queer thought came to her—she doubted that her money would buy Richard’s good opinion if ever he knew the truth. She could count on his honesty. She shivered, and drew the blankets closer. Why was she thinking of Richard anyway? How could she know what he had become? She hadn’t seen him since her come-out ball.

The memory slipped past her defences. He had danced with her that night, laughing because her wretched hair was escaping, enjoying the ball as much as she, although he rarely danced because of his leg. He had danced with her twice, and then she hadn’t seen him again until today.

She pushed the memory away. Richard would be revolted if he knew the truth; at best he would feel sorry for her.

She didn’t want pity. She wanted nothing of anyone. She didn’t need anyone—she could stand by herself. And in less than three months she would be free. Only…what on earth would she do with her freedom once she had it? She would enjoy it, that was what. And in the meantime she would enjoy herself now. Here. In London. She was not going to permit her fears to rule her life—she would not wait for her twenty-fifth birthday to release her, she would begin now. Tomorrow—no, it was tomorrow already. Today. She would begin today. She had put off enough tomorrows.

Thea arose early the following morning and dressed without summoning a maid—she could manage her short wraparound stays herself. Unsurprisingly when she went downstairs, she found the breakfast parlour empty. Having been out the previous evening, Lady Arnsworth would probably not arise until noon. Fully expecting to have to ring for tea and toast, she was startled to find a varied selection of food set out in chafing dishes on the sideboard, including, to her great surprise, sirloin.