Page 10 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

‘You mean, do not fall in love with him?’ Thea demanded. ‘Well, of course not! Goodness, I have survived one Season without falling for any of the numerous eligible gentlemen I have encountered. Why should I be in danger of developing a tendre for this one?’

‘One never knows when these things might strike,’ Godmama said earnestly.

‘I do not suggest for a moment that you would go out of your way to fall for a gentleman who has no title. That would be perverse of you in your position. But Hal is a good-looking and charming young man and I would not be surprised if he did not provoke warm feelings in your bosom. Warmer feelings than would be wise.’

Thea opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what she had been about to say.

Best not to say anything for a moment, because she was feeling quite indignant—at least, she supposed that was what it was—and she had no wish to be rude or disrespectful to her godmother.

But really , she was hardly likely to fall in love, just like that.

It had never occurred to her for a moment that Hal Forrest might be someone she might fall for, not until Godmama had put the idea into her head.

And now she had, it was clearly nonsense.

He was a very pleasant, attractive, intelligent, amusing gentleman.

One who was rapidly becoming a friend. That was all.

All, except that moment by the pond when their hands had touched and the focus of the world around had changed, leaving her confused. It had only lasted a moment, but she had felt unsettled ever since.

It was physical attraction, of course, she told herself. Young ladies were supposed to know nothing about that, although, really, married women must have very short memories of their own youth if they thought that their daughters knew nothing, and felt nothing.

Thea assumed the dutiful, rather earnest expression that she used when Mama was fussing about something.

‘I hope I am not so lacking in my understanding of what is expected of me as to fall in love with anyone, least of all a commoner,’ she pronounced, a statement that would have completely satisfied Mama.

Lady Holme looked less convinced. ‘I do hope so, dear. So much better to settle for a suitable match, one that ensures you live your life in just the way you have come to expect.’

Put like that, a suitable match sounded like a recipe for tedium, Thea thought, suddenly feeling mutinous.

What would be wrong with an incredibly wealthy East India merchant, other than a life of luxury and the possibility of exotic travels?

Or one of the new breed of industrialists—men who, as Papa had said in tones of disgust, had to buy their land rather than inherit it.

It might be fascinating to learn all about steam engines, or cotton mills or coal mines, and to build a house from the ground up with all the modern conveniences.

Not that Hal Forrest was either kind of man. He was simply what she was used to, only with no title, less land and less money.

And less fuss, and less pomposity and more freedoms , an insinuating little voice suggested in her head.

Stop it. He isn’t interested in me anyway.

He likes you, and there was that touch…

She realised that they had been sitting in silence for several minutes. ‘Yes, well, thank you for your concern, Godmama, but there is really nothing to worry about. I know I have behaved in a most unconventional manner, but I have no intention of making a habit of it, believe me.’

‘Of course not. You were always such a good, biddable girl.’

Now, why did that sound like a reproof and not a compliment? And she really did wish that the notion of falling in love had not been put into her head.

Thea was saved from answering by the butler’s entrance.

‘Do you wish for tea to be served here, or in the drawing room, my lady?’

‘Here, please, Fenwick. And let Mr Forrest know where we are, would you?’

‘My lady.’

Did she imagine that faintly pained expression crossing Fenwick’s face?

Surely she must have done. He was a very superior butler indeed, and she had once seen him deal with an escaped monkey, a hysterical housemaid—bitten by the monkey—and a visiting dowager duchess—the owner of the monkey—without so much as a faint frown appearing on his smooth brow.

It must be her imagination: she really was in a very strange mood today. Probably it was the suspense of wondering how Mama and Papa would react to her escape.

Hal appeared a few minutes later, changed from his breeches and riding boots into the pantaloons and Hessians fitting for a lady’s drawing room.

‘Now, that,’ he remarked as he sat down, ‘is not a gown suitable for Harrogate, is it, Thea?’

‘No, it is one of Godmama’s. The maids have worked miracles altering things for me so quickly.’

‘It suits you admirably. The gold in the braid trim brings out the highlights in your hair.’

He said it almost matter-of-factly, but, to her horror, Thea felt herself blushing, as though he had paid her some lavish and rather over-warm compliment.

She never blushed at compliments. Why would one? They were always false.

‘Goodness, it is quite warm in here, don’t you think?’ she asked, fanning herself with one hand and then stopping abruptly when she realised she was just drawing attention to her cheeks.

A quick glance in the over-mantel mirror reassured her that they were not crimson as she feared, but even so, they were decidedly pink.

Fortunately, neither of the others appeared to notice anything strange and the footmen arriving with the tea tray and a stand of little savouries and cakes was a welcome distraction.

‘Shall I pour, Godmama?’ she asked, grateful for something to occupy her.

That worked very well until Hal stood up to collect his own and Lady Holme’s cups and then settled back into his armchair.

Really, those knitted pantaloons were exceedingly tight and, when Hal crossed his legs as he had just done, the movement of his thigh muscles was quite apparent.

Ladies—young, unmarried ladies—did not look at men’s legs. They were expected to keep their eyes either cast modestly downwards or to look a gentleman in the eye, not look at him drinking tea and think, Horseman’s thighs.

It was all Godmama’s fault, making her think of Hal as something other than a friend.

Then he rose again, lifted the stand of food and brought it over to her. ‘Those little savoury puffs look delicious. Do have one and then I will not feel guilty for having two, as I fully intend to.’

She laughed and accepted a puff, almost dropping it when he turned to take them across to their godmother and a whisper of the cologne he must have used after shaving reached her nostrils.

This was ridiculous, she scolded herself.

She had admired handsome men before now without getting herself into a tizzy about it.

Lord Hardcastle, whose looks were darkly exciting and much admired by all the young ladies, for example.

Or Viscount Winstanley, a positive Adonis, all blue eyes and golden hair.

Or there was Major Lord Harper, who was ruggedly handsome in uniform, his appeal enhanced by the scar on his right cheek that gave him an air of danger.

Any one of them was enough to send fans fluttering amongst the ranks of debutantes, and hers had duly fluttered along with those of all her friends.

But when she had danced with one of those men, or stood conversing with them, she had never felt flustered and shy , of all things.

Bother Godmama!

‘Thea, dear.’ From the gently chiding tone of Godmama’s voice, she had already said something that Thea had not attended to.

‘I am sorry. I was wool-gathering.’

‘I was asking about the Italian garden.’

‘Oh, of course. I do not think you would like one, Godmama. I thought it far too formal.’

‘It is very new, of course,’ Hal said. ‘And the planting of hedges and so forth is very sparse as a result. But I suspect it will be rather rigid and also exceedingly costly to maintain. It would keep your gardeners very busy.’

‘In that case, I will not be copying Lord Brownlow. It is not the expense, so much, but the formality. I had assumed that an Italian garden would be somehow rather romantic.’

‘Not at all romantic,’ Thea confirmed. ‘When I compare it with your rose garden, I have no doubt which I prefer. There is just a touch of wildness, of mystery, in yours. A sense that nature surrounds you, keeps you safe. That formal garden was all about subduing nature to man’s desires.’

‘Just at the moment it is far from romantic—very much at the end of its season, I’m afraid.

But Fosket, my head gardener, has created what promises to be a delightful winter garden by the old summerhouse.

I have had that repaired and made sound.

It has a fireplace and I intend using it during the colder months to watch the birds eat the berries and the first snowdrops appear. You must explore it tomorrow.’

‘I would like to—if the morning does not bring Papa with it,’ Thea said ruefully. She was beginning to get butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of discovering her parents’ reaction to her flight.

At least it gives me something to think about other than Hal Forrest , she thought, pouring another cup of tea.