Lady Beware (12 page)

“Unbelievable?” He looked politely puzzled. “If you and your family let it be known that we were to marry, no one would believe it?”

“Of course not. Because you're a Cave.”

It brought only a twitch of his enigmatic features, but Thea realized how insulting that had been.

“I'm sorry,” she said, both out of fear and pity. Harrow, Dare, and Dog Cave all threatened to weaken her.

They had nothing to do with this strong, successful man, she reminded herself. “I mean that being a Cave, you're not well accepted at the moment. Thus the betrothal would look peculiar. Moreover, you're so new in Town, how have we come to know one another? If I'm to be swept out of my wits by love for you, it would take more than days.”

“I've seen it happen in an instant, but I grant you your point, especially when you're known as the Great Untouchable.”

“That's—”

“—a ridiculous nickname. I agree. But so many are, aren't they?”

She hated losing so many points.

“How long before it would be believable?” he asked.

“Forever.” Before he could retort, she leapt for her main point. “The betrothal isn't
necessary
, Darien. You have my parents' favor and tonight you've entered the inner circle of the ton and not been rebuffed.”

A raised brow questioned that.

“Not openly. You clearly have military friends willing to support you, but above all, you are now my mother's cause. Believe me, in these matters she's a veritable Wellington. If you decide you
don't
want to be brought back into the loving embrace of the ton, you have no hope of escape.”

Disarmingly, he laughed.

“She even intends to find you the right wife, so you see—”

“But not you, I assume.”

“I lack the taste for adventure.” Thea heard the touch of bitterness in her voice.

“My lady in red,” he said, “you astonish me.”

“I assure you, I do. That dress was…I won't wear it again. I want only a quiet, orderly life.”

“You're no more suited to tedium than I am.”

She looked him in the eye. “We have nothing in common, Lord Darien. Nothing.”

“We have that kiss.”

“You forced that on me!”

“Then why haven't you complained of it?”

He was taking her silence as
encouragement
? “Because I've no mind to cause a scandal or duel. Do not imagine for one moment that I enjoyed it!”

“Not up to your standards? I apologize and humbly beg a chance to prove I can do better.”

He moved closer, and Thea discovered retreat was blocked by the case at her back.

“When pigs fly!” she snapped.

“Put one in the basket of a balloon,” he suggested. “Or fire one from a cannon, even.”

The image threw her off balance. “That's horrible!”

“A means to an end. I don't let emotions come between me and my purposes, Thea, and you are my means to an end.”

“I wish I were the means to your demise—”

He captured her cheek with his hand. “Cease struggling. There is no escape.”

Completely still, Thea spoke low and hard. “Take your hand off me, Darien, or I will scream, and to hell with the consequences.”

He challenged her and she thought she was going to have to do it, but then he removed his hand and stepped back.

“Release me from my promise,” she demanded. “It's outrageous and unnecessary.”

“I cannot.”

“
Why?
Why is it so important to you? With my mother and the Rogues on your side…”

Her words dried because of the look in his eyes.

“The Rogues?” he asked quietly.

“They plan to help you. Because of what happened at school.”

Mistake, mistake!
She should have realized that he wouldn't want her to know about that.

“I do not like the Rogues,” he said, his eyes wide and steady. “And I'm damned if I'll accept rescue at their hands.”

“But you supported Dare in order to get help!”

“I
captured
your family. I hold you in my fist. If I could chain the Rogues and whip them to my will, I would. Are they chained?”

“No.” Then Thea found the courage to raise her chin and say, “They feel sorry for you.”

He put a hand flat against the glass, barring her escape. “You are a very foolish woman, and we are no longer in sight of others.”

She looked toward the door and saw he spoke the truth.

“Foolish to trust you?” she challenged over a terrified heart. “Strange as it may seem to you, I am generally safe alone with a gentleman.” His jaw tightened, but she couldn't seem to stop. “But then, a Cave can't be a gentleman. Why not force another vile kiss on me, then? I'm sure that's what you want.”

He stepped sharply back. “Oh, no. That's what
you
want. You won't taunt me into destruction. But,” he added, smiling coldly, “you have only to beg.”

Thea swung to slap his taunting face, but he caught her wrist, and the warning in his eyes froze her. Still, still, beneath ice and terror, all the wicked parts of her body and soul screamed that she beg as he required. That she grovel for another burning, annihilating kiss.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “you only need to ask.”

She wrenched free and ran. In the corridor she made herself slow down, sucking in breaths to calm herself. When she entered the hall she smiled, trying to look as if nothing in the world was amiss, but heaven knows what that smile looked like.

“Lady Theodosia, may I assist you?”

She turned sharply and found Captain Foxstall beside her. He was smiling, but the look in his eye was sly.

“Only in telling me where my cousin is, sir.”

“Miss Debenham was gathered under her mother's wing.” He looked behind her and said, “Ah,” as if all were explained. She knew Darien was there.

“Don't let him play you, Lady Theodosia,” Foxstall said with those horrid red lips. “That's his specialty, playing with well-protected young ladies. He usually finds it disappointingly easy. The right degree of danger and fear along with a soupcon of charm and they melt like sealing wax, ready for his stamp.”

Scalded, Thea turned and walked away. She loathed Captain Foxstall with all her heart, but she recognized truth. That was exactly the game Darien was playing.

Did he think he could use the thrill of danger to force her into marriage?

When pigs sprout wings.

But now, she must escape.

She found her mother playing cards and leaned down to murmur, “Something at supper upset me, Mama. I must go home.”

The duchess excused herself from the table. “You poor thing. I do hope there's no wider problem. So embarrassing for the hostess.”

“I see no sign. I don't think shrimp agrees with me.”

Shrimp. That was what he'd said.

“No, dear? I haven't noticed that before.” The duchess commanded their carriage and sent a message to the duke to say that they were leaving. “He'll doubtless stay. I saw him in a serious discussion about the suspension of habeas corpus. Such distressing times. Do you need to lie down, dear?”

“No,” Thea said, uncomfortable with a lie. “It's only a tiny feeling at the moment, but I'd rather be home if it develops.”

“Oh, yes, certainly. I was glad enough to leave. Partnered with Mrs. Grantham, who is such a silly player. I think this went rather well, though.”

“The choir was lovely.” Thea wanted to race down the stairs, but it would take time for their carriage to arrive.

“I mean Darien, dear! You were very generous with your attention and that can only do good. And I was so happy to see him enjoying himself with his army friends at supper.”

“He does have many army friends, Mama, and the Rogues intend to help him. Perhaps he doesn't need our help.”

“Thea,” her mother chided. “Gentlemen never have the same cachet as ladies. Except in the clubs, of course. I wonder if your father can get him accepted at White's….”

Only by a miracle,
Thea thought as they arrived in the hall and servants hurried off to find their cloaks.

“The carriage won't be long, dear,” the duchess said. “Why don't you sit down?”

Thea wanted to pace, as if that would speed their escape, but she did as expected and tried not to fidget. Her mother turned to talk to a friend who was also leaving, so Thea watched the stairs, though what she could do if Darien came down them she had no idea.

Oh, Lord. After all that, she'd achieved nothing in her attempt to escape the betrothal.

She'd have to try again.

Without losing her temper.

Without mentioning the Rogues.

She should have realized how he'd react to her knowing that story. Any man would hate it.

But now her fears were confirmed. His actions were fueled by hatred.

When their carriage was announced Thea hurried into it. As the carriage rolled away, the duchess said, “I do hope you're well by tomorrow, dear.”

“What?”

“Our dinner for Darien. Tomorrow night.” She broke off because Thea had moaned. “I forgot that you're unwell, dear. Do you want the smelling salts?”

Thea shook her head, speechless.

D
arien didn't pursue Thea Debenham, but he followed in her wake and saw her speak to Foxstall. Damn Foxstall. His presence in London was inconvenient, and his attentions to Thea's cousin potentially disastrous. Something about his exchange with Thea set off warning bells as well.

Of course his own exchange with Thea Debenham left a lot to be desired. She seemed able to deprive him of his wits with a fiery look from her clear blue eyes. Then she'd mentioned the Rogues.

Damn it all to Hades, he wouldn't have them meddling in his affairs.

He'd have preferred to leave, but he'd won entreé here and would damn well exploit it. He strolled through the rooms, ignoring any slights and pausing to speak to any army men he knew, glad to see Foxstall leave, doubtless for the livelier amusements of a hell or brothel.

This was the sort of slow, subtle invasion he'd once planned—before he'd met Thea Debenham. Since then, his life had gone to hell in a handbasket. He'd been forced to abandon Pup tonight, so heaven knew where he was. At least the lad was too nervous to go to a brothel on his own.

As he went through the social patterns, he watched for Lady Thea. While talking about the number of naval vessels lying idle, he was alert for the distinctive flower perfume she wore. While discussing affairs in India, he listened for her voice, so light and well modulated.

Except when she was angry.

Or frightened.

He'd frightened her.

He wasn't proud of that, but she was trying to wriggle off the hook and he couldn't allow that. For Frank's sake.

By eleven o'clock, he couldn't take more of the social playacting and set about leaving.

When he took farewell of the Duke of Yeovil, he discovered that Thea and her mother had already left.

“Something in the potted shrimp,” the duke said quietly. “Had some myself with no ill effects, but the ladies are more sensitive, aren't they?”

That hadn't been Darien's experience, but then his experience had mostly been of the sort of women who followed the drum. From whores to officers' ladies, toughness was essential.

Besides, he knew what Thea Debenham's complaint had been—an excess of Cave.

He found and thanked his hostess, apologizing for attending without invitation. “The duchess insisted,” he said, with some truth.

“I must thank her, then,” the countess replied with smiling eyes. “Your presence has livened my sedate entertainment.”

“We Caves live to serve.”

“I thought the motto was ‘beware,' my lord.”

“Like pepper, terror can be enlivening in moderation.”

She laughed, shaking her head.

He collected his evening cloak and left the house realizing that Lady Wraybourne's playful tone signaled another victory. When he'd arrived, she'd truly been alarmed, perhaps imagining her entertainment ruined by mayhem and violence. Now she was amused and saw no harm in him.

An error, but still a victory in his campaign.

A footman would have found him a hackney, but he was used to an active life and London stifled him. Perhaps walking the dark night streets also fed some mad urge toward risk. A man could become addicted to that. He saw that fault in Foxstall, but did it live in him, too? Was he capable of living a quiet, orderly life?

He paused in the street, realizing that he'd echoed Lady Thea's words.

No. He was not imagining a future with her, not even in his wildest dreams.

A noise pulled him out of his thoughts.

He'd carelessly taken a shortcut through narrow, dimly lit Cask Lane and now three young toughs were circling him, showing crooked, dirty teeth. “We'll just have your money and trinkets, milord,” one said.

Darien launched without warning, wielding his cane. In moments, two were fleeing, one with a bad limp and the other clutching cracked ribs. The third lay whimpering at his feet, hunched against the expected kick.

He only touched him with his toe. “A lesson from an expert,” he told the youth. “Attack first, talk later.”

He walked on, feeling a little better for the exercise.