A Compromised Lady (20 page)

Richard finished his coffee and stood up, conscious of heat on his cheekbones. There was absolutely nothing in the fact that someone, probably Braybrook, had kept Max informed. Nor that Max had remembered Thea’s liking for chess…but that faint, amused smile was unnerving…he resisted the urge to tell Max there was nothing in it, or at least not much. And definitely not as much as he wanted there to be in it.

Richard arrived back in Grosvenor Square that evening to discover that Almeria and Thea had already left for a ball at Monteith House.

‘And that was just delivered, Mr Richard,’ said Myles, indicating a note on the hall table. ‘For Miss Thea and marked urgent, it is. Her brother’s man brought it around. Very distressed, he was.’

‘Distressed? What about?’

‘He wouldn’t say. Just that I was to see Miss Thea received the note.’ Myles looked uncertain. ‘I did wonder if I ought to send the note around to Monteith House, but if it’s bad news—’ He left the sentence unfinished.

Richard frowned. ‘I’ll take it. I’ll go up and change. Have some hot water sent up.’

He arrived at Monteith House to find the ball in full flight. Judging by the cacophony, everyone who was anyone was in attendance. Weaving his way through the crowded rooms and halls, he exchanged brief greetings with several acquaintances.

‘Excellent news, old man!’ said one friend, clapping him on the back.

‘Er, yes. I’m delighted,’ said Richard, wondering how Barnstable had heard about the baby. Almeria must have talked, he supposed.

Another voice broke in. ‘Richard! Richard Blakehurst! How delightful! Congratulations, dear boy.

And, of course, dear Almeria is in alt!’

Every nerve and instinct suggested that now would be a good time to bolt as he politely acknowledged the Dowager Lady Whinlatter. ‘Good evening, ma’am. I am afraid, though, that I have not the least idea why I am to be congratulated.’

She laughed. An arch, tinkling sound that made Richard wonder if Whinlatter had cocked up his toes merely to escape it.

‘Now, Richard! You must not think to pull wool over my old eyes! Such an old friend of Almeria’s as I am! And I am sure Lady Chasewater must be mistaken, and that Miss Winslow is everything delightful…’

He only just managed to choke his natural response into submission. Instead, ‘I beg your pardon?’

Her conspiratorial smile broadened. ‘Well, of course I know nothing is settled, Richard,’ she said, tapping his arm with her fan. ‘And naturally, Almeria did not precisely say anything, even to me, but of course one understood!’

He dragged in a breath—prepared to deny everything categorically—and let it go again. What was he supposed to deny, without adding fuel to the gossip that was doubtless burning unchecked?

What the devil was Almeria about? Not to mention Lady Chasewater. Extricating himself from Lady Whinlatter’s fulsome delight without actually committing himself took several minutes of tact and diplomacy, but he was finally free and headed for the ballroom, smiling at people as he slipped past, but not stopping for so much as a ‘good evening’.

He was a trifle late. From the top of the stairs leading down to the ballroom, he could see that the dancing was already underway. He needed to find Thea. His eyes found her almost immediately.

Waltzing. With Dunhaven. He went cold all over and could only thank God it wasn’t a waltz.

‘Ah, Richard. Congratulations, old chap.’

Richard turned, reminding himself that punching Tom Fielding on the nose would not only create a scandal, but would be highly unfair.

‘For what?’ he asked irritably, looking back at Thea. Even at this distance her pallor struck to the heart. Nothing else betrayed her—just that balanced, expressionless mask.

Aberfield stood waiting nearby, watching them. The chill of warning intensified. Something was afoot here…he had to get to her.

‘Er, your betrothal?’ His attention snapped back to Fielding.

‘What!’

Fielding gave the impression of backing up without actually moving an inch. ‘Charming girl and all that.’

‘And who told you I was betrothed?’

Fielding visibly relaxed. ‘Oh, secret, was it? Well, everyone’s talking about it. And although Lady Chasewater’s sayin’ no man of honour would have Miss Winslow for double the money—no one’s takin’ her seriously, mind you.’

‘I see,’ he said, his brain working furiously. This, then, must be what Lady Chasewater had meant by having tastier fish to fry. Hell and damnation. If she was now openly destroying Thea’s character between sips of ratafia, to deny a betrothal would be tantamount to pouring oil on the blaze. He had to say enough to avoid committing himself, yet not so much that he gave the least credence to Lady Chasewater’s attack on Thea.

‘Yes, well, this is all rather premature, Tom,’ he said calmly.

‘What? Oh, yes—no announcement yet? I take you.’ Fielding grinned comfortably. ‘M’mother knows, of course. Well, I had to have some reason for not pursuing the woman! A trifle put out that I’ve let another eligible bride slip past, but never mind. Always another one.’ He looked at Richard carefully. ‘Something the matter with your teeth, old chap?’

To his horror, Richard realised that the loud crunching noise just happened to be his own teeth grinding. ‘One infers, then, that your interest in Miss Winslow was purely pecuniary, Fielding?’

‘What? Oh, lord, yes! Nothing personal, take my word for it. Charming girl, but not quite my style.

And seeing you smitten—’

‘Seeing me what?’

‘Er, is that—yes, it is! Excuse me, old fellow. Have to dash.’ He gave Richard a clap on the shoulder. ‘Chappie over there I simply must see! Do hope Miss Winslow enjoys her stay at Blakeney, and m’mother says to congratulate you!’

And with that, Fielding hurled himself into the crowd.

Leaving Richard in a state of total confusion. How the hell did Fielding know about Thea’s prospective visit to Blakeney? And what the devil had been going on to give so many the impression that a betrothal was imminent?

By the time the dance ended, several more people had offered oblique congratulations to him and it was only the glimpse of Lady Chasewater, seated on a chaise at the side of the room, that had prevented Richard from denying the betrothal. Loudly. The old woman’s eyes were blazing with triumph.

‘Thank God, you’re back!’ came a relieved voice and he turned to find Julian Braybrook at his elbow. ‘There’s been a most unfortunate development.’

‘Oh, really?’ That was one way of putting it.

‘Winslow was arrested earlier for the murder of Lallerton.’

Richard went cold all over. The note burning in his pocket was explained if Winslow had been arrested, and every instinct urged him to find Thea. Fast. He knew now what fish Lady Chasewater had been frying.

The end of the dance came at last, and Thea, every nerve raw, stepped back out of Lord Dunhaven’s arms.

He reacted swiftly, imprisoning her hand and clamping it on his arm. ‘You will honour me with your company at supper, of course,’ he said. ‘I believe your father plans to join us.’

Nausea churned. Somehow she had maintained her self-control during the dance, but she had reached her limit. Forcing calmness and a smile, she said, ‘How lovely. But if your lordship might excuse me for a few moments? I…I need to retire. I will join you as soon as I can.’

He looked at her consideringly. ‘Of course, my dear,’ he said at last, and released her.

Quickly, she slipped away through the crowd, making for the supper room.

Monteith House was huge, but Thea had visited there often as a child and knew it well enough to find her way out into the garden from the library. With a sigh of relief, she leaned against the wall of the house and breathed the soft fragrance of the garden. The roar of the gathering inside was strangely muted.

Just a few moments and she would go back.

‘What a charming spot you have found, my dear.’

Thea’s blood congealed at the soft purr, as she realised too late what a fool she had been to come out here.

He was between her and the door back inside.

‘Lord Dunhaven,’ she infused her tone with ice, ‘this is most improper. You should not have followed me out here.’

He shrugged. ‘What does it matter? We are to be married, are we not? Your father has given me his blessing. All that remains, my dear, is to decide the wedding date.’

His arrogance stiffened her, banishing fear and replacing it with coruscating fury. Controlling it, she said lightly, ‘I think there is something you have omitted, my lord. Is it not traditional to ask the woman if she wishes to marry you?’

‘If you wish, but we both know you have little choice. Very few men would be prepared to overlook your…state, shall we say?’ His voice mocked. ‘So, my dear; will you make me the happiest of men and consent to be my wife?’

‘No, my lord. I will not. Now if you will excuse me—’

‘I think not, Miss Winslow,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you have failed to understand your situation. You have obviously not heard the news? Such a tragedy it will be for your family if someone with the right connections does not step in.’ His smile was all teeth and triumph.

Thea fiddled with her reticule. ‘What news is this?’

‘Why, your brother, my dear,’ he said. ‘Such a hurried note I received from Aberfield this evening—

of course, if we act quickly it will all come to naught, but naturally I could not possibly have cause to intervene at Bow Street without a family connection.’

‘Bow Street?’ She summoned indifference to cover the frantic pounding of her heart, the chill fear that clogged her brain. ‘And what has that to do with me?’

‘Oh, not you, my dear,’ he told her. ‘Your brother—arrested early this evening for the murder of Nigel Lallerton, and it would be so unfortunate if your little indiscretion with Lallerton were to leak out. Such a powerful motive for murder, is it not?’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Her lips felt cold and stiff.

He shrugged. ‘It’s simple enough; your father and I have agreed on the match, and that is precisely what is going to happen. You have no choice. Naturally, as your betrothed I will use my influence at Bow Street on your brother’s behalf.’ He smirked. ‘For which service your father is disposed to be most generous in the marriage settlements.’

Thea sucked in a breath. It was just possible that he was lying, but not likely. Could she get away with agreeing to a betrothal, and then jilting him once David was safe? She shuddered. Too risky.

He would sue for breach of promise and take half her fortune. She couldn’t risk that. Not now.

There was the child to provide for.

‘You will understand, sir,’ she said carefully, backing away and trying to ease around towards the house, ‘that I would prefer to discuss this with you at a more appropriate time.’

‘No doubt,’ he said, closing the distance. ‘Your father warned me about that though, so my preference is for here and now.’ He lunged for her just as she dodged. Her foot slipped and she found her wrist caught in a brutal grip.

‘We’ll settle this now,’ he told her, hauling her close.

She fought him, kicking and scratching as he tried to force her away from the house, further into the garden. His odour nearly overwhelmed her; rank and sour, it was worse than during the dance, and the light from the library gleamed on a trickle of sweat at his temple.

She bit his hand savagely as he tried to clamp it over her mouth, and, twisting to face him, brought her knee up hard. She missed, striking his thigh, but he jerked back.

‘Bitch!’

His grip loosened and she tore free, whirling to run.

He caught her again, but, even as she dragged in her breath to scream, a voice sheathed in ice lashed through the night.

‘Take your hands off her, Dunhaven.’

Framed in the glow from the library two tall figures stood. One came forward, his steps slightly uneven.

‘What the hell’s it to you, Blakehurst?’ snarled Dunhaven, but his hand dropped from Thea’s wrist.

She cradled it, and saw the flare of rage in Richard’s face. Saw the lines of his face harden to steel.

He came forward and without hesitation she went to him. ‘Are you all right?’ His voice was harsh, raw, strangely at odds with the gentle, shaking touch of his fingers on her cheek.

She nodded. ‘Yes, but he says David has been arrested. He—’

‘Tried to use it as a lever?’

She nodded again and Richard realised that his control hung by a single, burning thread, stretched to breaking point. He reminded himself that calling Dunhaven out would inflame the rumours already circulating. That the news of Winslow’s arrest would just about blow the lid off an already bubbling pot.

‘Obviously the word “gentleman” has not the least resonance for you, Dunhaven,’ said Richard. ‘I suggest you get out of here before I lose my temper.’

‘Does the fact that I have her father’s permission—?’

‘Not unless you have hers, Dunhaven,’ said Richard coldly. ‘And in my understanding, when a woman uses that last trick, her permission is unlikely to be granted.’

‘A whore’s trick!’ spat Dunhaven. ‘Used by a soiled little dove, who’s already been—’

The rest of Dunhaven’s vitriol was lost as Richard’s fist slammed into his jaw, sending him staggering backwards against the balustrade.

Swearing sulphurously, Dunhaven struggled up, his fists clenched, an ugly look on his face.

Braybrook stepped in. ‘That will be enough for now. Dunhaven—you will accompany me back into the house.’

‘The hell he will,’ said Richard softly. ‘Take Miss Winslow back inside, please, Braybrook.’

Thea’s eyes widened at his voice. Deathly quiet, it rang with suppressed violence.

Terror shot through her as she realised where this was going. No! Not Richard too. She couldn’t let him!

She dragged in a breath, but Lord Braybrook spoke first.

‘No, Ricky. Leave it! It will cause even more gossip if she’s seen coming back in with me!’ He turned to Dunhaven. ‘After you, Dunhaven.’ He spoke quietly, but his voice held the ring of cold, tempered steel.

Breathing heavily, Dunhaven obeyed, cradling his fast-swelling jaw.