Page 15

C oming here had been a mistake. Too forthright. A little bit needy. Impulsive, and probably made her shallow, selfish motives totally obvious. It was also completely out of character when she usually actively avoided all men. The wariness had given way to curiosity. He intrigued her. More than any man ever had before. The shameful truth was Thea had only offered to collect the post as a pathetic excuse to see him again—knowing full well he wanted to maintain a respectable distance. But after yesterday, and after thinking about him for most of the night, it had seemed a plausible enough reason to happen to be riding past at the time. She certainly hadn’t expected to do more than say a passing hello, exchange a few pleasantries, then be on her merry way, content that she had at least seen him. Then quietly sigh and swoon in private all the way home, just as she had all night. She hoped all that swooning was borne out of knowing him better and liking what she learned and not solely because he had declared himself off limits. But in her head alongside all the new regard she had for him, Gray had become forbidden fruit. Something she had a proven penchant for.

Casually meeting him was hardly throwing herself at him, but she had not factored in Harriet’s matchmaking, nor Gray’s ingrained sense of decency, and now the poor man felt beholden to accompany her and clearly did not want to. ‘Something inexplicable about you calls to me and perhaps on a far deeper level than I care to admit.’ Words which still sang to her soul. That made her increasingly believe he was exactly what he claimed to be. Neither a fortune hunter nor a true scoundrel, but a man who saw past her fortune to the woman beneath. Gray was drawn to Thea. It was that simple and that glorious.

‘Was it me, or was your cousin a tad nervous this morning?’ She purposefully kept her conversation bright and friendly, hoping he wouldn’t realise she had only come here for him when he had made it plain he would prefer to have little to do with her. But he had called her beautiful. Beautiful and tempting and exactly the sort of woman he would choose to court if he had a mind to. Those were not the words of a man who disliked you. In fact, if anything they said quite the opposite. He was avoiding her because he liked her. To protect himself. Because he couldn’t trust himself to resist her. And to spare his heart. Yet instead of respecting his wishes, she was flagrantly going against them, claiming they were now friends when her body and mind clearly yearned for so much more. Was she here because she wanted to tempt him? To her shame and bubbling excitement, the answer was a definitive yes. She certainly wanted to tempt him to reconsider.

‘Nervous? I’ve never seen him in such a state. He changed his coat twice, ruined goodness knows how many neckcloths and doused himself in cologne. It was one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a long time. Lady Crudgington has a most peculiar effect on him.’

‘They were flirting yesterday on the lawn. Didn’t you see? I was surprised Harriet had returned until I saw Lord Fennimore. She loathes Aunt Caro’s friends and finds most of our neighbours boring, but she is very taken with him so she went against the grain and came back.’ She was babbling. A sure sign of her guilty conscience. ‘Decent gentlemen of a certain age are thin on the ground, or so she says, and she approves of the way he wears his breeches.’

Images of Gray sans breeches suddenly swamped her mind and she felt a fraud for pretending to be his friend again, although he felt like a friend. A charming, handsome, intriguing, wholly male friend whose kisses were lethal. Was she wrong to indulge in a bit of harmless selfishness? When there was clearly a mutual attraction and regard between them? It wasn’t as if she intended to stomp all over him and force her will. Not even Impetuous Thea was capable of that! No—merely a little gentle prodding. Perhaps if they spent a little more time together, both of them would lower their defences and nature would take its course. That sounded much better. She would leave it to fate and hope that this time it would look upon her kindly.

‘His breeches? Good Lord.’ His shocked expression was comical. ‘Although I suppose he is in excellent shape for a man his age.’ He was riding so close to her that she could reach out and touch him if she had a mind to. She did, but neither Thea was brave enough. ‘I am convinced he is taken with her, too. I have seen him smile now on two separate occasions in her presence. It should also be noted, those are the only two occasions I have ever witnessed him smile.’

They speculated on the unlikely romance between Lord Fennimore and Lady Crudgington for the first half a mile of the short ride to the village, almost as if both of them knew it was a much safer topic than anything else, when their last conversations had been so intensely personal and significant. Once that was exhausted, an odd tension settled between them. Of things unsaid, or maybe that was just her take on the silence or her own guilt for orchestrating the entire meeting in the first place. Rather than let it hang, it was Gray who blessedly broke it. ‘Why are you collecting the post rather than leaving it to a servant?’

‘My uncle is expecting a letter, one he has been quietly fretting about, so I offered to collect it and, knowing Harriet would leave your poor cousin waiting longer than necessary for her to turn up, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and chivvy her along.’ That did sound a more plausible excuse than forgetting Harriet and Lord Fennimore had a prior engagement, when it had been mentioned repeatedly in his presence yesterday at her aunt’s interminable garden party. ‘She has a dismissive relationship with clocks by and large and time keeping has never been her forte. As it was, even with my interference, she was significantly past fashionably late. Making the poor man suffer too long from Harriet’s tenuous grasp of time seemed unnecessarily cruel.’

‘Cruel—but entertaining. It made me glad he had woken me. That, and his request for me to be the chaperon. I’ve never been asked to be a chaperon before and never thought I would. It is those odd and wholly unexpected moments that make life so entertaining. I am the last person to ensure the correct proprieties are adhered to.’ His eyes flicked to hers, the flirtatious challenge in them instantly reminding her of exactly how many odd and wholly unexpected times he alone had tempted Impetuous Thea to stray. Except, right this second, it wasn’t exactly Impetuous Thea who controlled things, nor was it Sensible Thea. It was an odd amalgamation of the two which felt reassuringly like her old self. The Thea not jaded by fortune hunters, who never checked her temper or pithy comments in case they caused her poor uncle to keel over. The Thea who embraced life and enjoyed a little risk. Thrived on it. Hence her spur-of-the-moment decision to accompany Harriet and take a chance on a man she would never have considered anywhere near suitable only a few days ago.

Before she wrestled Impetuous Thea back in her box, she stopped at the end of the meadow as the village came in sight and decided to ignore all the guilt and simply enjoy the moment. She was tired of being too buttoned up and suspicious. She was young, the sun was shining and the day felt much brighter than any had in a long time. She might not be ready to leap off the precipice, but she was certainly prepared to edge a little towards it. ‘This land is Colonel Purbeck’s. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer we skirt around the edges rather than cross it directly.’ Crossing it directly would also take half the time, when she was inclined to linger. ‘If he sees us, we’ll have to call on him and...well...’

‘The droning man spits when he talks.’

‘Precisely.’ She loved that he already knew her so well he could finish her sentences. She also loved the knowing smile she had only seen him use on her. The one that did odd things to her insides and made her forget all the reasons why she was supposed to be wary and suspicious. He didn’t behave like a fortune hunter. Nor did his past indicate that he’d attempt to be one. He had a healthy disrespect for money. And a committed aversion to marriage. One he had been completely honest about lest she not know exactly where she stood, yet she was stood here despite it. ‘Although he will be wounded when he learns Harriet prefers your cousin to him. Colonel Purbeck is also very taken with—’ The gunshot came out of nowhere, startling them both. As Trefor barked repeatedly in warning, Archimedes simultaneously reared, throwing Thea helplessly from his back.

She landed with a dull thud on the grass, winded but otherwise intact, and managed to roll away a split second before one of his massive hooves hit her. Swiftly, she scrambled backwards and well out of his way, blinking and hearing only the sound of her rapidly beating heart.

Her old hunter was in a blind panic. One that needed to be quickly controlled for all their sakes. Before she could pull herself to her feet, Gray slid off his horse, patting his horse’s flank to send it out of the way before he stepped bravely into the fray.

‘Trefor! Back!’ He pointed to where Thea now stood and the animal listened, instantly pressing his body against her legs as if protecting her for his master. After checking that she was all right, Gray motioned for her to stay put while he dealt with the frightened horse, something which worried her because Archimedes truly was skittish to the point of being outright temperamental. Especially around strange people.

‘Easy, boy.’ He kept his voice level and even, his palms up as he edged forward. It was obvious, despite her accusation to the contrary only a few scant days ago, Gray knew horses. ‘Easy... Shh.’ The erratic jumping was lopsided. Her big horse was hanging one leg at the rear. Not only was he panicked, he was injured and it was all her fault. She should have been paying closer attention. She never should have been here in the first place. ‘Good boy... Easy.’ He caught the trailing rein in his fist and wound it quickly around his hand to steady him, his other hand reaching out to stay the horse’s head. ‘Shh... It’s all right.’ Gray rested his forehead against his muzzle and dropped his voice to a whisper, breathing slowly to encourage the animal to do the same, a soothing technique she had never seen anyone use before.

At first Archimedes fought him, then he slowly, miraculously, calmed. ‘Thea—take the reins.’ He waited for her to grab the slack before he risked unwinding his hand from the leather. ‘He’s hurt himself. The right fetlock. Hold him still while I check his leg.’

‘He’s lame!’ Once again, she had been self-indulgent in her pursuit of the forbidden and fate was punishing her. Yet she had wilfully ignored the nagging voice of doubt in her head. ‘Is it broken?’ Thea couldn’t hide the fear or the threatening tears from her voice as she stared on impotently. Archimedes was all she had left of her father. A broken leg would mean the old horse would need to be destroyed. She couldn’t bear yet another thing she loved leaving her because of her own reckless selfishness. Gray gently probed the swollen muscle, then risked manipulating the joint. The horse flinched and so did she.

‘I don’t think so. But he’s sprained it badly. He doesn’t want to put any weight on it. Probably turned it as he reared.’ He didn’t need to mention that bad sprains could also be dangerous. Especially on a horse as old as hers. What had she done? This was all her fault. ‘Let’s get him back to the hall so I can check him over properly.’

Tentacles of panic wrapped around her organs that she tried to ignore. Panic was a selfish emotion and her innocent horse deserved better. ‘Our stables has a big cart. Certainly big enough for Archimedes. Shall I fetch it?’

‘Yes! And plenty of ropes and strong-backed grooms. The less he aggravates the injury now, the greater the chance is of it recovering.’

Grateful to have something to do rather than consider the bitter ramifications of her actions, she pulled up the skirts of the ridiculous riding habit she had worn solely for him and made no attempt to look ladylike as she heaved herself astride Gray’s horse and then nudged the animal to a gallop.

The next two hours passed by in a blur, most of which was spent with Thea pacing and wringing her hands as Gray took charge. He coaxed Archimedes into the cart, secured him and rode in it with him for the entire painfully slow journey back to ensure her horse wasn’t jolted. Then he took over her uncle’s stables after the stable master suggested shooting the poor thing there and then, instead issuing rapid and succinct orders to the staff about the way he wanted the treatment to proceed.

Her horse’s damaged leg was bathed in ice, then loosely wrapped in a poultice. Most ingeniously of all, he had lashed ropes over the ceiling beams tied to a hammock affair beneath Archimedes’s stomach to support his weight and prevent him moving around. By the time it was all done, the sweet old boy was as comfortable and content in his stall as could be expected and well enough to munch on the carrots she had brought him by way of an apology—as if she could apologise for being so careless with his well-being. Now, alone in the garden, she sensed Gray come alongside her. One glance proved his expression was grave.

‘Will he recover?’

‘It’s hard to say at this stage. The next few days will be crucial, but we’ll have a better idea once the swelling starts to go down in a day or two. Then we can strap him up. Hopefully his lameness is temporary—as it so often is.’

‘And what if the swelling doesn’t...?’ He silenced her by gently placing his index finger on her lips.

‘Don’t think like that, Thea. Don’t think too far ahead. It serves no purpose. There are too many variables and all of them out of our control. He is calm and the fact that he is eating tells me that the pain is not unbearable. That is a huge positive and I find it’s much more beneficial to focus on the positives than indulge in the what ifs. I will personally check on him daily and ensure that every possible thing can be done to see your horse back on all four of his feet again. Let’s take this a day at a time.’

She nodded, too choked to say anything, and powerless to stop the tears she had been stalwartly holding back from falling. The guilt and shame was eating her from the inside and had been for hours. How many times did someone she loved have to get hurt because of her inability to control her own selfish desires? Thanks to her stubborn selfishness, her father was dead and her uncle nearly so. Because of her selfish desire to spend more illicit time with Gray, Archimedes was put in danger. Impetuous Thea was a menace.

‘Don’t cry, Thea.’ He looked extremely ill at ease with her uncontrolled and noisy bout of emotion, but she couldn’t seem to stop. ‘Please don’t cry.’

‘Th-this is all my f-fault. I should never have taken him out this morning. It was a selfish thing to do.’

‘Selfish? Of course it wasn’t.’ His thumb gently brushed one tear away. ‘It was the fault of the blithering idiot who fired that gun.’

‘You d-don’t understand...’ How could she explain it, when she knew to any rational person it would sound like nonsense? He wrapped his strong arms around her and she wept against his chest, grateful he was there and wishing he wasn’t. ‘I could have p-prevented this.’

She was apparently inconsolable, which affected him just as much as her horse’s injury clearly affected her. In the absence of any clue as to how to make her stop crying, all Gray could do was hold her tight. A huge mistake. The second he took her in his arms, it played havoc with his emotions.

There was something unsettling about holding this indomitable woman when she was so distraught and he was powerless to stop it. For some reason she was intent on blaming herself for what happened and no amount of reasoning with her appeared to be able to change that. As in all things, there was nothing quiet and sedate about the way she expressed her grief. Each shuddering sob seemed to have the power to hurt his heart, while the front of his shirt was now completely soaked through.

A few minutes previously, Viscount Gislingham had appeared at the French doors, taken one horrified look at the dreadful state of Thea and retreated, stunned, back inside, shaking his head, leaving Gray to bear the brunt of his niece’s breakdown all alone. The only weapons he had in his poorly stocked arsenal were the unwavering support of his arms as he held her and the odd platitude mumbled near her ear. The whole experience left him wrung out like an old dish rag and riddled with guilt that he couldn’t do any more. But he wanted to. He’d move heaven and earth to ease her pain.

‘It will be all right, Thea—I promise.’ What was he saying? He was in no position to promise. Gray really had no idea if his common-sense treatments would work. His knowledge was rusty. He’d had no real cause to use it in the last decade and had long ago given up keeping up with the new ideas of the equine world. Although he was sure he’d read or heard mention of some fellow suspending a horse from the ceiling before and if a cooling poultice worked on a human sprain, it stood to reason it might work on other animals. The truth was, he might well have made no difference to poor Archimedes’s situation whatsoever. He kissed the top of her head and buried his nose in her curls. She finally tilted her face up to look at him, her eyes so sad. ‘I’ll make this right, Thea. You can trust me.’ He saw hope kindle then. Hope and belief in him that was both humbling and made him feel ten feet tall. Of its own accord, his head began to lower, intent on kissing away all her pain...

‘Oh, my dear! Oh, my dear!’ The Viscountess suddenly burst through the French doors, still wearing her bonnet and travelling clothes. ‘I have just heard what happened. Poor Archimedes! And poor you!’ The older woman rushed over and began to fuss around Thea, dragging her out of his arms and back towards the house, leaving Gray no choice but to impotently follow, ridiculously aggrieved to have been usurped in Thea’s moment of need. ‘I am sure he will recover, dearest. I know how much you love him.’

Back in the parlour, as a pale Thea quietly wept against her aunt’s shoulder, Gislingham tapped Gray on the arm and gestured beyond the door, then limped out. Gray was glad to escape. Not because of Thea’s tears—but because he wanted to be the only one who consoled her. Worrying and dangerous ground indeed. ‘What happened?’

Gray told him every detail and watched the man bristle. ‘Blasted Purbeck! The fool shoots off his gun at all hours with scant regard for his neighbours. We’ve had words about it before. A few years ago, back before this happened.’ He pointed to his ravaged body. ‘He came within a hair’s breadth of killing me! He was shooting pheasants or grouse or something well out of season, and his bullet went clean through my hat. It took every ounce of my restraint not to punch the blighter on the nose. Now poor Thea’s horse is injured! And for what? All so the idiot can brag to whichever lamentable soul he has forced to dine with him that he is so manly he killed the dinner himself! I’ve never understood it. The sight of blood has always made me queasy and I couldn’t eat a thing I’d watched choke on its dying breath.’

But sleep soundly knowing men have been murdered at your word? Gray bit back the angry, incredulous retort and tried to push his understandable prejudices to one side. Not for King and country this time, but for Thea. His friend... The friend his arms still longed to hold. The same friend who was currently making his heart ache in a way that did not feel at all like simple friendship. If anything, it felt alarmingly like...affection. Perhaps more than that. A knot of emotion formed in his throat. Fear and realisation. He was in too deep—but knew he couldn’t back away and that had precious little to do with his mission and everything to do with her.

‘Tell me plain, young man, so I can prepare. Does the nag stand a fighting chance or are we merely prolonging the inevitable?’

‘I think it’s just a sprain. Perhaps a bad one. But if I’m right he might recover.’ Seeing her so distraught, he’d nurse the beast day and night for a month if he had to. Whatever it took to make her smile again. What was that about?

‘I hope you are right.’ The Viscount clumsily lowered himself on to an ottoman by the wall, suddenly looking old and frail. ‘Archimedes was her father’s horse. Her last link to him bar me. I can only assume that is part of the reason she is so upset. She lost her father young. A carriage accident. Such a tragedy. Maybe this has churned that all up?’ There was a chance. Her grief was that raw. ‘She had nightmares for months afterwards and thoroughly blamed herself.’

‘Why?’

‘They argued that day. Something which was a frequent occurrence because they were both as headstrong as each other, but which always quickly blew over. He’d lay down the law, she’d rebel and then he’d despair of her wilful nature when she refused to comply. But once they had both cooled off, they would both apologise. My brother and my niece both had twin fiery tempers that matched their fiery hair. Tempers that burned hot instantly, then cooled just as quickly. Except that day, he stormed out in anger and they never got to make it up. She used to dwell on that a great deal, no matter how much I tried to tell her my brother wouldn’t have cared. He adored his daughter and, like me, royally spoiled her rotten. But she forgot that in the midst of her grief. I suppose it’s easier to focus on the negatives than remember the positives. To lose Archimedes through tragedy...well, that would be a bitter blow indeed.’

As Gray digested that, he realised it was entirely plausible. Those fragile links to the past mattered. He doubted he’d ever set foot in Wales again for exactly that reason. Wales, his mother, Cecily and the hornet’s nest his life had quickly turned into were all inextricably linked to that place.

The butler approached on silent feet and coughed politely. ‘The post has finally arrived, my lord. Did you want it now?’ On the silver salver in his hand was one letter. A letter written in the same, elegant, sloping hands as the ones tied with ribbon locked in the Viscount’s desk.

The older man glanced at it and sighed in relief. ‘Put it in my study, thank you. I shall read it later.’ Just as Gray would read the few he had pilfered from that same study a few hours ago at his earliest possible convenience. In an hour or three. Once he was sure Thea was all right.