Two Wrongs Make a Marriage (22 page)

In response, he stood and walked around the table to her, tracing a fingertip along the bare skin of her shoulder, and her traitorous body seemed to actually consider the suggestion. She stiffened her spine and ignored the
frisson
of excitement raised by his touch. ‘I think we are quite done with each other, thank you very much. My curiosity is satisfied.’

‘And what of the matter of de Warde?’ he asked.

‘You can manage that by yourself, I am sure. You have said that you did not need me.’

‘So I did,’ he said thoughtfully. The finger on her shoulder was still flicking idly back and forth, raising the hair on her arms. ‘But as you can see, the excitement of the game is raising certain other needs. And it has been rather a long time for me. Until last night, I had been without satisfaction since before we met. It would be better if I were to expend this energy and tackle the man tomorrow while my head is clear.’

When she had wished for a less romantic approach, she had not thought it would sound so common, horrible and selfish. If possible, tonight’s base truth was even worse than the previous night’s flowery lying. She pulled her chair out and stood to escape his grasp. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that I allow you another night in my bed?’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘You have made it clear that you wish no part in the actual tricking of de Warde. But there is another supportive role you might play that would do me a world of good.’ He compounded the vulgarity of it by reaching for her, drawing her into his arms for a kiss as rough and careless as any she might have expected from a man who thought only of his own pleasure.

And even worse, she was answering him with a kiss of her own, as though one day of intimacy had created a habit. She could be just as selfish as he, if she tried. To prove it, she forced her tongue into his mouth, urging him on, her leg rising to rest on his hip as though she expected him to bend her back on the table and have her here. She would prove to him that she could be as wicked and as careless as he. Tonight, when they were finished, she would be the one to leave.

And that was not what she wanted at all.

She fumbled behind her, until her hand found a heavy silver fish slice and grabbed it, poking the flat blade into his ribs and pushing him away from her. ‘Leave me be, Jack Briggs. Or I shall...’ She was unsure what, for the weapon she’d chosen was hardly sharp enough to do him any damage.

He looked down and laughed. ‘Is that how they taught you to threaten a man in Miss Pennyworth’s school? If you mean to do me an injury, a real knife might work better.’

‘I will show you injury, you lecher.’ And she swung the thing as hard as she could at the side of his head.

He caught her wrist before she could make contact and backed away in surprise. ‘You truly are angry with me, aren’t you?’

‘Merely coming to my senses, which were lost briefly yesterday.’ She brandished the serving piece at him, backing towards the table.

‘I have a good mind to do just as you ask and leave you alone for the evening,’ he said. ‘I could take my diversion elsewhere.’

‘I suggest you do that. Find a whore who can appreciate Shakespeare and perhaps you will not even have to pay for it.’

‘Very well, then.’ He had the nerve to look indignant and reached back to the table to drain his wine glass. ‘I’m off. There was no part of my agreement with Spayne that said I had to stand for your abuse. I will return in the morning in a better mood. We will see how long it takes you to regret this behaviour.’ And he was out of the room and down the hall, shouting at servants and grumbling all the way to the carriage, making such a commotion that she would be surprised if half of London did not know that Kenton and his lady had had their first row.

She decided, almost immediately the door was shut, that he had been right. While she was not sure that it was safe to take him into her own bed, she did not want him leaving the house to consort with other women. What did this say about her feelings for him, to be simultaneously jealous and repulsed by the man? And how many of Miss Pennyworth’s rules had she broken in the last hour? She’d refused her husband, argued loudly enough for the servants to hear and taken notice of the fact that he might wish to satisfy his needs with another.

She had also threatened him with a serving piece. There was not even a rule to cover that. It simply was not done. Even her mother, at her most outlandish, had never done anything so foolish. All the efforts to mask the taint in her blood had been for naught. When sufficiently aroused she was as volatile, as common and as prone to inappropriate actions as Antonia ever had been.

There was a quiet clearing of the throat behind her, as if the butler feared the reaction he might get should he interrupt her thoughts. ‘My lady?’

She turned to him. ‘Graves?’

‘I know the time is late. But you have a guest. Mr de Warde. And he has requested...’

‘To meet with me alone,’ Thea said with a sigh. Why tonight, of all nights, must the man come to bother her? ‘Show him to the drawing room. I will speak to him there.’ She took a moment to straighten her skirt and smooth her hair, making sure that no trace of the recent tussle with Jack was visible. Then she walked down the hall to meet her guest.

She allowed the footman to announce her and stood saying nothing and forcing de Warde to rise and come to her. She did not bother with a smile, for really, what was the point of pretending? It did not matter if her mood furthered Jack’s plan or not, she could not stand to pretend a moment longer. ‘Mr de Warde?’

‘Lady Kenton.’ He offered a slight bow.

She ignored it. ‘What is the meaning of your visit this evening? If you wish to see Spayne, he has gone back to Essex.’

‘And your husband is out for the evening,’ de Warde supplied. ‘I have just seen him at Boodle’s. He is well on the way to being foxed and cursing all of womankind.’

Damn Jack for leaving in such a pet that the world must know of his absence. His fine talk of keeping her safe had proved to be just as false as his lovemaking. ‘All the more reason that you should not be here,’ she replied.

‘On the contrary, it is the very reason I have come. We have a matter to discuss, Lady Kenton, and I will not leave until I am satisfied.’

‘Very well, then. What is it you wished to know?’

‘I have had quite enough of this nonsense that your husband is attempting. He is up to no good, I am sure. But I cannot make it out.’

‘I have no idea what you mean.’ It did not sound particularly convincing, but then she was in no mood to play-act. And the story she would have to tell of Hindu deities and magical pregnancy was too ludicrous even to attempt.

‘I am sure you do. The statue that I sold your father is in a shop somewhere, along with its mate. I wish to have them back, quickly, cheaply, and before your husband can attempt to sell them to me.’

‘He would do no such thing.’ She tried for a staunch denial and defence of her beloved Kenton. But she might as well have yelled ‘Right in one!’ for all the effect it had on de Warde.

‘Really, Lady Kenton? Is that the best you could do?’ He shook his head. ‘After all the fine apologies from you, and your mother, I thought we might be friends again.’

‘I am willing to forgive the trick you played on my father, because of his recent good fortune.’ She choked out the sentence, making one last effort to stick to the plan. ‘But I will not stand for you pawing at me, drooling over my hand or making any further attempt to see me alone. I was never interested in your suggestions. My opinion of them has only diminished, now that I have married.’

‘Very well, then.’ He held his hands palms up before him in a gesture of surrender. ‘I apologise if my interest has been misconstrued. I will trouble you no further. Nor will I offer you this.’ He waved a piece of paper briefly before her eyes before beginning to tuck it back into his pocket.

It looked suspiciously like a bank draft. ‘Wait.’ She could not help herself. ‘What is it that you have there?’

‘The money that I took from your father. I meant to give it back to you as a wedding gift, but your husband would not allow me to speak with you...’

Could it really be that simple? Had the answer been before her all this time? And had it been obscured by a play-actor too clever for his own good? ‘Why would you give me such a thing?’

‘Because I would rather your family had it than Kenton’s,’ he said. And that, at least, had a ring of honesty to it. He held it out to her so that she could read her father’s name, twenty thousand pounds and his own signature smoothly across the bottom. ‘As I said before, Kenton is up to no good. I will take back the statue for the amount I was paid. But I need you to bring it to me.’

‘I do not have it,’ she said, ‘or I’d give it to you tonight. I am sick to death of hearing about it.’

‘Your mother said it was sold to an antiquities dealer.’

‘A pawn shop,’ she said, not bothering to maintain the pretence.

‘Do you have the address?’

‘It is somewhere in Whitechapel,’ she said. ‘The door was green.’

‘You have been there?’ His eyes widened in surprise.

‘Only briefly.’

‘Then take me there, immediately.’

‘Me?’ She was squeaking like a schoolgirl. She could not seem to help it. And she had been doing so well in asserting herself. She still could not act, of course. But the truth had served well enough for most of this conversation.

He gave her a smug smile. ‘Do not tell me you are afraid to be seen in my company. We are family now, as your husband keeps reminding me.’

‘You know that is not what you are thinking at all,’ Thea snapped, unable to contain her disgust.

‘If you will soon be breeding, as your husband claims, than you have nothing to fear from me. I will admit defeat. If Kenton is any kind of a man, he will not need Indian magic to do the job. But I am tired of games and will not allow myself to be swindled.’ He set the bank draft down on the table. ‘Take me to the source of these supposed idols. Do it now, and not at your husband’s convenience. The draft will stay here, as proof of my word.’

‘I cannot guarantee that the statues are there, or even that the shop is open,’ she said, eyeing the draft on the table.

‘Take me to the shop and I ask no more of you. But do not try to fool me or lead me on a wild goose chase through London. I will know if you lie, for you are really quite hopeless at it.’

She could have her father’s money. And if the shop was closed, she might not even damage Jack’s plan to help Spayne. He might still succeed, if she could find him and warn him of this recent development.

And if she could not? Then it would serve him right for leaving her alone and sharing so little of the truth with her. ‘Very well, then. If you will give me the draft, I shall call for a carriage and show you the way.’

‘We shall take mine,’ he said. ‘It stands ready outside.’

‘But the draft stays here.’

He gave a small nod.

‘I will be but a moment to get my wrap.’ She stepped into the hall and signalled furiously for a footman, handing him the draft. ‘Send this to my father immediately. And send someone else to find Kenton. He may be at Boodle’s or perhaps not. Tell him I have gone to Whitechapel with his uncle.’ And let Jack make of that what he could.

The man gave a single nod before de Warde was upon them again, gesturing impatiently to the door where his carriage waited. ‘My lady?’

As she passed him, she tried to keep her head held high as though the trip did not frighten her. But even she could see in the mirror of the entry hall that she looked near to panic and quite guilty. She glared back at her reflection. There was no way that Jack’s scheme could have succeeded. She was doing no harm by giving up and would possibly even be saving him some embarrassment. Tomorrow, she could borrow some small portion of the money back from Father and reclaim her ring. It was all for the best.

For his part, de Warde looked triumphant, sure that he was near to a revelation, as he most likely was. ‘Whitechapel,’ he commanded and the carriage started forwards.

‘I really cannot tell you more than that,’ she warned. ‘I was not paying attention.’

‘We will go round every street and down every alley until you see the place with the green door,’ he responded. ‘I will see the truth in your eyes and that will be that. But I will not let you down from the cab until this matter is settled, even if we drive through the night and into the morning.’

‘Very well, then,’ she said with a sigh and watched out the window for the tarnished gold balls on the sign.

* * *

When they arrived, the windows were dim, as though the shop might be closed, but de Warde sprang down from the carriage. At his touch, the door swung open easily to the same brassy jangling of bells.

Thea had not anticipated this. It seemed that, like it or not, de Warde would get what he wished; either the idols, or proof that Kenton meant to cheat him. Then it occurred to her that Joseph knew nothing of Kenton.

He did, however, know an actor named Jack Briggs.

She hopped out of the carriage and followed de Warde into the shop, hoping that, for once in her life, she might find some of her mother’s talent, for she very much needed it, if she was to keep her husband’s secret.

But as she crossed the threshold, Danyl appeared from a back room. Either the servants had got word to Jack, or the scene was already prepared. Thea gave a silent prayer of thanks that she need be nothing more than an observer from this point forwards.

Danyl was eyeing de Warde with suspicion. ‘I am not open for business,
sahib
. Come back tomorrow.’ His accent was thicker than she remembered, as though he was play-acting the Indian. Instead of a normal coat and neckcloth, he wore a heavy brocaded robe and his thick dark hair was hidden under a turban.

But de Warde seemed to see nothing amiss. ‘Your door was open. Because you were expecting someone, perhaps?’

Danyl stared at him, giving nothing away.

‘Then I think you must be waiting for me. I am a friend of Lord Kenton. I have his wife here with me.’