Page 21 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

‘H e was there. Leamington was at the recital,’ Mama said the moment the carriage door closed behind them.

‘Yes, Mama, I know. I spoke to him.’

Thea smoothed the folds of her evening cloak around her legs, her gloves running over the satin with the softest of whispers.

‘And he sat right in front of you. A most marked attention, I thought.’

‘He was in front of Clara Chelmsford. And he had very little choice, because old Admiral Barwick was demanding his attention until virtually all the chairs were taken. He actually ordered the Duke to go and fetch his ear trumpet, would you believe?’

In the gloom of the carriage she could see the swoop of a light-coloured glove as her mother dismissed that irrelevance with a gesture. ‘Leamington is not avoiding you, that is the important thing. It would be disastrous if he showed displeasure, or even cut you.’

‘I am sure the Duke is too much of a gentleman to do any such thing.’

‘I suppose you are right. But any froideur would be noticed, would be disastrous.’

‘We encountered each other and it was perfectly civil,’ Thea said firmly. ‘There is nothing to worry about, Mama.’

‘Other than finding you a suitable husband now you have wantonly refused the most eligible man in the country,’ her mother said with a snap.

‘Yes, Mama.’ It seemed the only tactful thing to say.

* * *

‘You are dressed for riding,’ Lady Wiveton said disapprovingly as Thea came in to breakfast two days after Lady Beale’s recital.

‘I thought I would go into Hyde Park and take advantage of the sunshine after yesterday’s rain,’ Thea said as she lifted the cover from a chaffing dish on the sideboard, wrinkled her nose at the smell of smoked fish and moved on to the eggs.

‘Well, do make sure you take a groom. Remember we are not in the countryside here.’

There didn’t seem to be much to say about that, so Thea nodded and sat down as her mother returned to the pile of letters that Drage had set by her place.

She smiled her thanks to the footman who poured her coffee and was about to raise the first forkful of eggs to her mouth when her mother gave a faint shriek and waved a gold-edged card at her.

‘This is wonderful! He is holding a ball!’

‘Who is?’ Thea asked, putting down her fork.

‘Leamington, of course. You must change as soon as you have finished your breakfast and we will go to Madame Lanchester. We will order a new ball gown immediately.’

‘When is the ball?’ Thea asked, mentally passing in review the two, unworn, ball gowns that were hanging in her dressing room already.

‘In two weeks’ time.’

‘Then I cannot see the urgency, Mama. Do I even need a new gown? We could keep back the amber silk until then: I do think it is very fine. Besides, I have a slight headache, which I am certain a ride in the fresh air will cure.’

‘Very well,’ her mother said, regarding her beadily across the table. ‘It is fatal to be frowning with a headache, which you are. The next thing we know, you will be developing dreadful lines between your eyebrows. Disastrous.’

Thea escaped after her second cup of coffee, wondering just why her mother was so very concerned about the Duke’s ball.

Obviously, it would be a major society event, but the same people would be there as would be at any other ball.

More of them, of course, because who was going to turn down an invitation to the Duke of Leamington’s first ball?

Everyone on Mama’s list of eligible gentlemen would be attending if they were in London, so perhaps that was what she was so concerned about—showing off Thea to as many of them as possible.

On the other hand, Thea had been out in society for one Season already, so many of those gentlemen would have had plenty of opportunity to become accustomed to her charms.

But not perhaps wearing in the amber silk dress with the gauze overskirt, she thought with an inner smile as she asked Drage to let Hoskins, her groom, know that she was ready.

Upstairs Jennie eased her into her tight jacket, pinned her dashing little tricorne with its veil and green feather securely and handed her gloves and whip. ‘Have a pleasant ride, my lady.’

‘Thank you. I am sure I will,’ Thea said.

She was hoping to find the park relatively peaceful.

The most dashing riders, male and female, would have been out early, taking advantage of the hour to gallop in a park where even a restrained canter was often frowned upon.

The fashionable crowd would be riding and driving in the afternoon, so that left the middle of the morning quieter.

Of course, there was the added hazard of nursemaids and their charges, often boisterously running about where one would least expect them, small boys chasing ducks and unruly dogs in pursuit of both, but go further away from the Queen’s Walk and the reservoir, and it should be quiet enough.

She ran downstairs, the long skirt of her habit caught up over her arm, and Drage opened the door to reveal Hoskins on his bay hack, holding the reins of Lara, Thea’s bay mare.

He swung down from the saddle and came to boost her up. ‘Where to, my lady?’

‘Hyde Park, Hoskins.’

The air was fresh and damp, holding the promise of rain to come and, when they reached the park, the scent of the fallen leaves that covered the swathes of grass.

‘This will be the last fine day for a while, my lady, I reckon,’ the groom observed.

Thea noticed him scanning the park, watching for hazards, for loose dogs and dubious characters. It was part of his job to keep her safe and she appreciated his care, while chaffing at the lack of freedom.

But Hoskins knew her well and, as soon as he had decided that it was safe, he dropped back by several lengths and Thea rode on with at least the illusion of being alone.

Lara was fresh and eager to run, and Thea let her canter strongly, holding her back from a full-out gallop.

The speed should have been exhilarating and enjoyable, but after a moment Thea realised that it was bringing back memories that she could have well done without.

Riding stirrup to stirrup with Hal, laughing as they galloped, free as birds, across the countryside, enjoying matching horse against horse.

Simply being that uncomplicated thing, two people who liked each other learning how to become friends.

She reined back, bringing Lara down to a slow canter, then a trot, the joy of the ride draining out of her. This was foolish. One man had proved a disappointment, but she should not allow that to dominate her life.

It is not as though I am in love with him , despite Godmama’s best efforts , she thought. Now, that really would be something to be sad about. I am simply feeling low in spirits because of the thought of another Season and this time having to think seriously about finding a husband.

Because what was the alternative? To set up her own household at her age would be a scandal and besides, Papa would never allow her the money to do it.

Remain unmarried but living with her parents?

Thea gave a decisive shake of her head. She had seen too many unmarried daughters dwindling into their mother’s shadows.

They were a disappointment, but a useful one when an elderly aunt needed a companion, or a sister-in-law wanted help with a brood of unruly children.

Of course, there were always Good Works.

Thea lips twitched at her own mental capital letters.

She felt no attraction to supporting missionary societies, and she suspected that fallen women would laugh in her face if she attempted to redeem them.

Then there were great causes that she suspected a young single woman with no control of her fortune could contribute little to—the abolition of slavery, the extension of the suffrage—sprang to mind.

But there were also others where she felt she might do some good—education for girls, the encouragement of money-making opportunities for women, for example.

Someone had opened a bazaar in Soho, renting out stalls at affordable prices to widows and women in reduced circumstances so they could sell their needlework, crafts and baked goods. Perhaps more of those would be helpful.

Thea was deep in contemplation of a career in charitable endeavours when she saw the grey horse. The large grey horse that was cantering along one of the rides that would converge with hers. Juno.

She reined Lara down to a walk and almost turned her to ride back the way she had come.

But why should I? I have a perfect right to be riding in the park and I am quite capable of exchanging a civil greeting with a passing rider.

Like most accidents it happened in a split second. A wooden hoop bowled out from behind a small clump of low bushes, just where the two rides intersected, and a small boy ran after it.

The hoop was right in front of the grey mare and, at speed, she had no chance of missing it. Forelegs entangled, she went down.

Thea urged Lara forward as Hal somehow got out of the saddle and half jumped, half tumbled towards the child, catching him and rolling him clear of half a ton of horse and four thrashing iron-shod hooves.

Thea slid from the saddle, conscious of Hopkins behind her. Juno flailed to get her legs under her, then scrambled to her feet.

‘My lady, you stay clear,’ Hopkins called as she slid from the saddle and started forwards.

There was a great deal of screaming happening. Thea left her groom to look after the horses and discovered a nursemaid having a fit of hysterics over Hal, who was still sitting on the ground holding a wailing small boy.

Nobody, by some miracle, appeared to be bleeding, and all the limbs she could see looked straight.

Thea marched up to the young woman, took her by the shoulders and gave her a brisk shake. ‘Stop it! You are frightening the child. He is quite unharmed.’

After a moment, the shrieks dissolved into tears, then hiccups.

‘What is his name?’ Thea asked, more gently.

‘Master Anthony, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am, but I thought—’