Lady Beware (11 page)

“Not the whole of it,” Darien corrected, lips quirking.

“A division, at least. Mad Dog and Demon, and not a man lost.”

“And a chest of French gold acquired!” March declared. “Wish I'd been there.”

“We were only there by accident ourselves,” Darien pointed out, “and would much rather not have been. That was a mistake on my part, and but for Vandeimen's arrival, might have been disastrous. As it was, the gold saved my skin and the men's feet.”

“The men's feet?” Thea asked.

“It purchased a boatload of boots.” She didn't know what he saw in her face, but the mask slid back into place. “You don't approve of war exploits, Lady Theodosia?”

She dug her fork into a forgotten pastry. “I don't know enough to approve or disapprove, my lord, but it's shocking that our soldiers had to go to such lengths to get supplies.”

“Someone wrote that an army marches on its belly, but that tends to slip the attention of those in power. Half the army fought Waterloo hungry.”

“That's appalling. Something should be done.”

“Really?” He looked cynical, but Maddy said, “Oh, Thea, not another cause!” She looked around the men. “She and Aunt Sarah are always scurrying around trying to assist returning soldiers.”

“And your contribution, Miss Debenham?” Darien asked.

Maddy actually flushed. “I amuse them!” She turned to Foxstall. “Don't I, sir?”

He raised her hand and kissed it. “Delightfully, Miss Debenham.”

Maddy blushed in a way Thea knew all too well.
Not a friend of Darien's, Maddy, please!

“Are all you gentlemen fixed in Town for the season?” Thea asked.

“Seems so,” Cully said despondently. How men could long for military action she didn't know.

“Not me,” Foxstall said. “We're off to India before summer's out.”

“That's most unfortunate,” Maddy said with a pout.

He still had her hand. “Marry me, Miss Debenham, and I'll forsake the houris.”

Maddy laughed, everyone smiled, but Thea noticed what very red lips Foxstall had, lurking beneath his dark mustache. She truly did not like or trust this man.

“Well?” he demanded, reminding her of Darien demanding his bargain.

Even Maddy looked taken aback. She laughed. “I'm quite incapable of making any decision so quickly, Captain.”

“Then I can only gather English rosebuds while I may.”

Loose red lips smiling. Eyes sliding down to the posy of pink buds between Maddy's breasts. Maddy immediately pulled one free and offered it. He took it, kissed it, and tucked it inside his braided jacket close to his heart.

Thea's teeth were gritted and so, she thought, were March's. She glanced at Darien, silently berating him for bringing this wolf among them. She might pity Foxstall's deformity, but every instinct said he was a rake. A very dangerous rake, well beyond Maddy's usual playing fields.

L
ady Wraybourne's butler broke an awkward silence with the announcement of the second choir performance. As they all rose, Thea looked for a chance to separate Maddy from her fox, but Maddy had a firm link to his arm. At least Marchampton stuck close.

Lieutenant Farrow offered his arm to Delle, who good-naturedly invited Cully to her other side. Thea smiled and accepted Darien's arm back to the music. It was all part of the plan, she reminded herself. Her mother expected her to show support.

As they strolled through the house, she thought the plan might be working. Though she was sure many people were maneuvering in order to avoid the Cave in their midst, no one turned their back and she heard no whispers. When Avonfort didn't meet Thea's eyes, she was tempted to march over to him and force him to be polite to Darien.

She found herself comparing the two, and not to Avonfort's advantage. His elegance, which she'd always admired, looked effete against Darien's plainer style. His carefully arranged hair, high shirt collar, and blue moiré silk cravat seemed overdone.

What was she thinking? She
liked
men who shared her taste for fine dressing, and especially her taste for elegance and the gentler arts. She could honor the courage and sacrifices of war without admiring the coarse results.

“No conversation?” he asked as they began to climb the stairs.

“We could talk about why you are doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Forcing yourself upon my family and upon society.”

“Perhaps for the delights of your company, my lady.”

She sent him a flat smile. “I am here by duty to convey the Yeovil blessing, Darien, but if you pretend to be in love with me I shall probably be sick.”

His lips twitched. “More likely the potted shrimp. I forswear love, then, but cannot deny admiration. You must know you're beautiful.”

“Now what is a lady to say to that? If I agree I sound vain. If I say no…”

She'd walked into a trap.

“You will feel foolish?” he completed, eyes dancing. “There's no dishonor in claiming an attribute. I am brave, strong, and an excellent fighter.”

“Men are allowed to claim things like that. Women are not allowed to claim beauty.”

“Instead you have to wait for others to tell you and then coyly demur. A shame, don't you think? Say it. I am beautiful.”

“No.” Why wouldn't people walk faster and cut this conversation short?

“Then what attributes may you claim?”

“Virtue, sound principles, and Christian charity. Perhaps some household skills.”

“Do you have any household skills?” he asked.

“Of course I do. In order to run a great house I must know everything about its working. Cleaning, linen management, accounts, food preparation.”

“I look forward to seeing you kneading bread with flour on your nose.”

Damning him silently, she confessed, “I have never actually made bread.”

“Theoretical knowledge is often deceptive….”

She met his eyes. “I've confessed my folly, Lord Darien. There's no need to belabor the point.”

At last they'd arrived at the drawing room again, but she'd swear he laughed. Infuriating, wretched man! She saw people startled to see him in such good humor. They were probably blaming her for it.

She saw Maddy and her two swains and navigated to a seat directly behind them, ready to poke her cousin in the back if she behaved too badly. Maddy distributed her smiles and comments evenly, doubtless hoping to provoke jealousy.

Because of Maddy, Thea couldn't truly enjoy the second half of the performance. All in all, this was turning out to be the most unpleasant ton event she'd ever experienced. And according to her mother's plan, she had more of the same to look forward to.

But not as the Vile Viscount's betrothed. That would be a hundred times worse.

Lady Wraybourne thanked the choir and then offered her guests yet more amusements, including an opportunity to visit Lord Wraybourne's new chamber, built to display his noted collection of ancient pottery.

That seemed safe, so Thea said, “The collection sounds interesting, Maddy. Shall we go there?”

But Marchampton said, “Kyle warned me off, Lady Thea. Just a lot of old pots.” He held out an arm. “Cards, Maddy?”

Maddy took it, but then linked her other arm with Foxstall's, and the trio set off for the card room. Without Darien, Thea could have made a fourth and possibly even distracted Foxstall from Maddy. In fact, she could still do so.

“Cards, then,” she said.

“Pottery,” Darien said.

“I wish to play cards, sir.”

“You said the collection sounded interesting. I do hope you're not flighty.”

“I'm allowed to change my mind,” Thea said, teeth gritted.

“Only about some things.”

It was a warning. Before she could find a pithy response, he smiled slightly. “I thought you wished to speak to me. Old pots seem more likely to provide an opportunity than the card tables, don't you think?”

She wanted to refuse on principle, but he was right, and she needed to clear up confusion. Urgently. And Maddy couldn't get into serious trouble in the card room, especially with March on guard.

So Thea took Lord Darien's arm and together they followed directions through the hall and down a corridor toward the back of the house.

“Not the most popular event of the evening,” Darien remarked. Two couples walked ahead and there might be more behind, but there certainly wasn't a crowd.

“Perhaps Major Kyle has been warning the ton in general,” Thea said.

“You might warn your cousin that Foxstall is not a safe plaything.”

“Really? I had the impression he was your friend, my lord.”

“The army makes strange bedfellows. Speaking of which, when do we announce our intention of becoming bedfellows?”

Thea felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Really, my lord!”

“It's what marriage amounts to. I know—it's not what people say. I prefer plain speaking. So, is there any reason I shouldn't speak to your father tomorrow about our commitment?”

“Yes,” Thea said sharply.

“What?”

“It's too soon.”

“Lady Thea—”

“You do
not
have permission to use my name like that.”

He raised his brows. “You prefer to be Theodosia, gift of the gods, rather than Thea, a goddess in your own right?”

The man was infuriating. “I've no idea what you're talking about, Darien, but please address me formally at all times.”

“I invite you to call me Canem.”

“Or Dog?” she fired at him.

“Don't.”

They'd arrived at the door to the room in which about a dozen people had gathered. He gestured her to proceed him and Thea hurried in. Safety in numbers. She wondered if her shivers were noticeable.

She pretended to be fascinated by the room, strolling around the circular walls of glass-fronted cabinets, all full of pottery, whole and in pieces. A central plinth was tiered for special displays and sat beneath a glass dome that would let in excellent light in the daytime. At this hour they had to make do with lamps, and perhaps that accounted for the dullness of the items on display there.

“Old pots indeed,” Darien murmured, and despite everything Thea had to bite her lip. That was exactly what the items on the plinth looked like—the plain sort of cooking pots used in a kitchen, except that most were so chipped they'd have been thrown out long ago. Some items were merely shards.

Lord Wraybourne picked up one broken pot and showed it to some of his guests, turning it tenderly in his hands. He was a handsome, urbane man and Thea wondered what had pulled him to this interest, to this obsession, even. It must have cost a great deal of money to create this room. He clearly saw a beauty in his collection that escaped Thea and probably most people.

Rather like love, she thought. People could fall in love with the most unlikely people. Alesia was giddy over a serious-minded clergyman, and one of Avonfort's sisters was happily married to a widower twice her age. Kingstable was an old pot, though actually still a fine-looking man, and Catherine was ecstatically happy in her marriage.

As Lord Wraybourne spoke to the whole group about his collection, Thea wondered if she'd ever experience romantic ecstasy. It hadn't happened yet—not even the sort of infatuation most of her friends flew into again and again.

Her eyes wandered and she wondered who else in the audience was struggling to look interested and who was truly fascinated. One other was distracted, for sure. Lady Harroving was eyeing Darien with a wicked smile. She must be at least ten years his senior! But then, Cousin Maria was eight years older than Vandeimen, and Lady Harroving was a widow.

If you want him, my lady, you're welcome to him,
Thea thought. Her mother was looking for a suitable wife for Darien.

Lady Harroving was of good birth, though her reputation was by no means impeccable. No one had ever believed her faithful to her late husband, and she annually hosted a masquerade ball that was only just respectable. But she certainly wouldn't be harmed by the match.

The short lecture ended with Thea hardly hearing a word of it.

Some people gathered around Lord Wraybourne, asking him questions as if truly fascinated. Lady Harroving came over, somehow presenting her large, mostly exposed breasts as her focal point.

“Lord Darien,” she said, ignoring all propriety, “I'm Lady Harroving. Maria,” she added with a sultry smile. “What an asset you are to a dull season.”

It was as if Thea didn't exist.

“I hope to be as dull as the dullest, Lady Harroving,” Darien said, with a perfect distant coolness. “Lady Thea, I gather this is Lady Harroving.”

His response and introduction were beautifully nuanced deterrents. Red rose beneath the rouge on the older lady's cheeks. “Lady Theodosia and I are acquainted,” she said with equal coldness. “I see your reputation is earned.”

“I haven't bitten you, yet.”

Perhaps to save face, Lady Harroving laughed before turning and leaving the room.

“That wasn't wise,” Thea said softly. “You don't need more enemies.”

“She insulted you by ignoring you.”

She looked at him. “That matters to you?”

“I'm your escort. I take such duties seriously. Old pots do seem to fascinate some, don't they? I suggest we inspect the cabinets a little longer.”

He was correct. This room would do for their private talk once the others had left. With the door open, of course. The open door gave a view down the corridor to the front hall. It couldn't truly be considered private.

Thea turned with Darien to inspect the contents of the nearest display case. Sometimes she glimpsed him reflected darkly in the glass, and the other people, farther behind.

Leave
, she commanded the chattering group as she moved from gaudy-glazed pots to dull ones and on to a cabinet that held crudely made pottery figurines. The group had moved a little, but paused again. Some kind of tension was building in her. Impatience to get the man to see sense. It must be.

“You have a particular interest in fertility goddesses?”

Thea focused and saw that some of the figures were squat females with huge, pregnant bellies. “Do you think they worked?” she asked, but then blushed.

“Is that the sort of thing a lady talks about with a gentleman?”

She turned to face him. “You started it.”

He smiled. “So I did.”

It took a moment for Thea to realize that they were alone. That Lord Wraybourne and his companions had left.

Suddenly dry-mouthed and nervous, she said, “So let us talk of such matters.”

“You aren't worried about being alone with me?”

“The door is open and we are visible from the hall.”

“Stone walls do not a prison make, and open doors do not mean safety.”

Thea tensed even more. “You intend to attack me again? I warn you, I'll scream.”

He smiled. “You didn't last time.”

“You…!” But Thea remembered her purpose and controlled herself. “I am here alone with you, Lord Darien, only to talk about the betrothal.”

“About speaking to your father.”

“No!”

“There is some other first step?” he asked politely.

“Obtaining the lady's true consent,” she snapped.

“Then, my goddess, we
are
betrothed.”

“No, we're
not
!” Squabbling would get her nowhere. “Lord Darien, you have to see that a betrothal between us would be both unnecessary and unbelievable.”