Lady Beware (17 page)

H
arriet had to wake Thea, and—perhaps an omen—the morning was dull and might even threaten rain. Thea struggled out of bed, however, ate her breakfast, and put on her habit.

As arranged, her horse was waiting, being walked in front of the house, but she didn't emerge until Darien rode down Great Charles Street on his gray. The groom gave her a hand up into the saddle, and she was ready exactly when Darien reached her.

Perhaps he noticed. There seemed to be a slight smile on his lips when he raised his hat to her. They rode off toward St. James's Park, hooves clattering on cobblestones.

“So,” he said, “you wish to renegotiate?”

“No.”

His brows rose. “You couldn't bear more than eight hours without me?”

“Of course not! Why do you have to be so suspicious, Darien?”

“You did say that it's always a contest between us.”

So she had. “Only in some matters. In others, we're allies.”

An overloaded cart drawn by two huge but weary horses trundled toward them, the cloth stretched over the top flapping in the breeze. Her horse jibbed, and she appreciated the fact that Darien didn't reach to control it. She managed, and they both sidled the horses well away from trouble. When the cart had passed, they rode on.

“This is a meeting of allies?” he asked. “For what purpose?”

She worked up to it gently, explaining her mother's reasoning, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't see a way to soften the end point—except to make it provisional.

“So she wants to bring in the Rogues.”

“No.” They were entering the park and he moved up into a canter.

Thea pursued. She didn't suppose he was actually fleeing her, but it felt like it. She caught up and kept pace and eventually he slowed, and then stopped.

“The answer is still no.”

“They are the best weapons to hand,” she protested.

“No.”

A wind had come up and it whipped her veil around her face. Irritated, she tucked it into the high collar of her habit. “This battle means nothing to you then? If it did, you'd accept any means to win.”

That hit. She saw it in the tightness of his lips.

“Think of it as using them, if you want. As chaining them and whipping them.”

He laughed dryly. “I try not to indulge in self-deception. They pity me.”

“No.” But then Thea decided that honesty was best. “They did. At school. But not any longer. They believe that they owe you a debt. They will probably pay it by leaving you alone if you insist.”

“Evil woman.” He rode on slowly. “What will I be expected to do?”

“That's up to you and them, but mostly be seen in their approving company.”

Still tight-lipped, he looked at her. “Why do you care?”

“We made an agreement. I see this as part of my unstinting support. I knew you'd reject the idea, but you need to accept.”

“It's important to you?” he asked, seeming to give it some special meaning.

Thea looked away. “It will relieve demands on my time.”

“Then a bargain.”

She turned back. “Oh, no!”

“You don't know what I want in exchange.”

“You have no right to ask
anything
in exchange. I'm doing you a kindness.”

“You just admitted that you're sloughing off a burden. My price for your freedom—come with me to an Opera House masquerade.”

Thea's jaw dropped. “You truly are mad.” She instantly regretted the words and braced for anger, but he simply waited.

“You are aware that they are scandalous affairs?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know I can't do it.”

“Of course you can. You can choose not to, but that is my price.”

“Then go drown yourself.”

“I'm a good swimmer.”

“Tie stones to your boots.”

He suddenly laughed. “Ruthless to the core, but not as ruthless as I. If I manage to endure the Rogues graciously, you will attend the Opera House masquerade with me a week on Monday.”

“I will be at the Winstanleys' ball a week on Monday. There are to be fireworks at midnight.”

“I could provide fireworks at midnight.”

Her skin prickled. “Don't be disgusting.”

“It seems to be my nature. Eleven o'clock.”

“The fireworks will be at midnight.”

“A week on Monday, at eleven, I'll be outside your house to escort you to the masquerade.”

“Then I hope it pours with rain,” she said, and rode off at a canter.

He came alongside. “You wish to get wet?”

“
I
will be at the Winstanleys' ball!”

“Soon to miss the fireworks. Because a cruel goddess ordered rain.”

She drew up. “You are a most infuriating man!”

“I try. There's no escape, Thea. This is my price if I'm to do your will.”

Her scarf escaped again. She confined it again. “I'm only trying to persuade you for your own good!”

“Then refuse my price and we'll say no more of it.”

“The same trick as last time,” she snapped.

“I know when I hold a winning hand.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You're bluffing.”

“Thea, Goddess, believe this. I never bluff.”

She believed him. She longed to leave him to sink, but she couldn't. Her mother wouldn't give up easily and her mother's chief weapon was herself. But in addition, he truly did need to do this. And, drat the man, she cared.

She tried reason. “It's not even possible. If I made some excuse to stay home from the ball, do you think no one would notice if I left the house at that hour?”

“Poor imprisoned princess.”

“I'm
not
imprisoned. But any house is guarded from intruders. What keeps some out keeps others in. How would you secretly leave your house at night?”

He moved his horse into a walk. “With ease. My servants are few and go early to bed.”

Keeping pace, she said, “Ours are many and don't. Not all of them, at least. When the family is out, a footman waits in the hall for our return.”

“Back doors?”

“Servants sleep near them, and I suspect that at eleven o'clock some would still be up.”

“What about the doors out into the garden?”

“From the Garden Room?” She hadn't thought of that. “But the garden is walled.”

“There must be a way through the wall. The gardeners don't tramp through the family's part of the house, do they?”

Resolute. Thickheadedly stubborn, more like. Her arguments felt like pelting a rock with ribbons.

“The back wall of the gardens is part of the stables,” she realized with satisfaction, “and some of the grooms will certainly still be awake, waiting for the coach's return.”

“I lay odds there's a way of sneaking through.”

“I don't care! I'm not sneaking out of my house at night.”

“Why not?”

She refused to answer. “I wish I'd never met you.”

“A familiar feeling, I'm sure. But you need an adventure. You're trapped by cobwebs that you could easily brush aside if you only believed it possible.”

“Why on earth should I
want
to throw myself into danger?”

“For the thrill of it?”

She smiled triumphantly. “There you and I differ, Darien. I see no thrill in danger.”

“You haven't experienced enough danger to know.”

“I've experienced you.”

A glint in his laughing eyes suggested a great many responses not made. He spoke seriously. “I can keep you safe, Thea, even out at night. Do you believe that?”

“From footpads, yes. From yourself, most emphatically, no.”

“A point. What if I promise to behave as if I were your brother?”

“Tease me to death?”

“Poor sister. Don't be a coward.”

“Now that is a brotherly trick, I grant you. A very young brother.”

“You never had a very young brother, so how would you know?”

Thea let out a suppressed scream of frustration and rode off. She
was
trying to escape, but he came up beside and kept pace with a sense of leisurely ease. “If you don't do this, you'll regret it for the rest of your life,” he called.

“Absolute nonsense!”

But his words struck home.

When she considered her life thus far she saw nothing but the normal, the safe, the correct, and the sane. She'd not even galloped in the park before she'd met him.

Never before had this seemed a
flaw
.

It
wasn't
a flaw. She intended her future to match her past—normal, safe, correct, and sane. With that in mind, she slowed to a decorous pace.

But Maddy's words returned—oh to be gloriously insane, if only once.

She drew up and eyed him. So handsome in his strong, scarred way. So…powerful. Yes, he could keep her safe. From others, at least.

“If I made an excuse not to attend Lady Winstanley's ball,” she heard herself say, “a headache, perhaps, my maid would still check on me.”

“At eleven?” There was no hint of triumph in his voice. Oh, he was a clever dog. But mad, mad. And so was she.

“No,” she admitted. “If I weren't out, Harriet would probably be in bed by then. But my mother might come in when she returned.”

Did she want a reason not to do this, or a reason to do it?

“That would be in the early hours of the morning, and you might be back by then. If not, a bolster beneath your covers should do.”

“You're like a hawker, teasing people to buy tawdry rubbish.”

“I understand the Opera House masquerades are a mix of people of all classes, tawdry to grand.”

“And that is supposed to appeal to me?”

“Come, now, are you really so top-lofty? You must have attended a masquerade before.”

“No.” It suddenly seemed a shameful confession.

“Poor princess. Escape your tower.”

Thea felt as mixed up inside as churned cream. She knew she shouldn't let him tease her into risk by childish dares, but he made her sound so dull.

She saw a compromise. “Next Friday,” she said, “is Lady Harroving's masquerade.”

“Yes?” There was no way to read his tone.

“I might…” She took the plunge. “I would be willing to attend that with you if you accept the Rogues' help. If my mother allows,” she added hastily. “I'm not sneaking out of my house.”

A glance showed complete inscrutability.

“You're offering pinchbeck for gold,” he said at last. “A respectable masquerade is not very daring.”

“Only more or less respectable. Lady Harroving is only more or less respectable. My mother put the invitation aside.”

“But if you wished to go, the duchess would permit it?”

“Probably. You know you have to do this, Darien. You have no choice.”

“Don't overplay your hand, Goddess.”

At his tone, she had the sense to fall silent. He really was on the edge of refusing, the stubborn, infuriating man. Which made the fact that he was on the edge of accepting fascinating.

“Why?” she asked. “Why is this so important to you? Why will you do something you truly don't want to do?”

She thought he wouldn't answer, but then he said, “My brother.”

“Marcus?”

He laughed. “God, no. My younger brother, Frank.”

“The naval officer?”

He looked at her, his expression still withdrawn. “The duchess's research?”

“He's in there, but Maria Vandeimen mentioned him. He's no secret, is he?”

“Not at all. Frank has fallen in love, but his beloved's father will not permit a marriage to a Cave. I admit that not being shunned in every drawing room would be pleasant for me, but smoothing Frank's path to marital bliss is my prime motivation.”

“That's why you tried to force a betrothal,” she said, suddenly seeing the whole picture. “If you were betrothed to me, this other man could hardly object.”

“Admiral Dynnevor. Not only wouldn't he object, he'd probably rush his daughter to the altar, salivating at the idea of a connection to the Yeovils. But I let you talk me out of it.”