Page 25 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

H al stood there in front of them, waiting.

The Earl, next to her, was clearly expecting her to rise and accept.

You did not turn a gentleman’s offer of a dance down, unless you asked him to sit it out with you, otherwise you were considered unable to dance for the rest of the evening and could accept no other partners.

‘You only granted me the one when we spoke earlier,’ Hal added. ‘I have been chastising myself for timidity in not pressing for another. Unless, of course, you are awaiting your partner.’

As it happened this next was the only dance free on her card, which was quite deliberate, because she always liked to have a little breathing space. To say that was tantamount to refusing.

Thea stood up. ‘Thank you for the dance and your company, Lord Porchester. Duke, I would be delighted.’

He led her onto the floor and she glanced hastily at her card. It was a country dance and one danced mainly with, or next to, one’s partner.

‘What just happened?’ he asked as they took their places and waited for the rest of the set to form.

‘I mean besides my being as foolish as a green girl and wandering into the conservatory, thus laying myself open to as neat a little ambush as I can imagine. I should have learned my lesson about conservatories by now. Was someone really bothering you? In which case, I will most happily deal with him.’

‘I saw you enter and I saw the…er…other two parties watching and then one of them entered by the other door.’ Best not to mention names out loud here.

Thea bowed politely to the couples joining them and there was no opportunity to speak for a few minutes as the dance started. At last they found themselves standing together at the end of a row, waiting while those at the top of the group set to the opposite dancers.

‘I thought it was tended to entrap you,’ she said, low-voiced under cover of the music.

‘But obviously, nobody would imagine that you had lured two young women in there to have your wicked way with them simultaneously, so I knew all I had to do was appear and their plan was foiled. We chaperoned each other, in effect.’

‘You did that for me? Why should you?’ Hal asked. He sounded incredulous.

Thea stared at him.

You have to ask? Because I’m a nice person, that’s why.

It wasn’t all the truth, of course.

* * *

He had put himself into a very dangerous position, simply by not thinking, and the reason he had not been thinking about basic self-preservation was because his head had been full of thoughts about Thea.

And she had rescued him. Why should she do such a thing? It could have had unpleasant consequences for her, and she had certainly made enemies of the Lintons.

‘You did that for me? Why should you?’ he asked.

Thea looked at him as though he had broken into a jig. ‘Because I dislike Helena Linton,’ she said frigidly. Then she curtseyed to the man opposite her and he realised it was their turn to dance again.

Her expression as she watched him from the other side of the circle was superficially pleasant, but her eyes were cold and, somehow, hurt.

He had wounded her by asking about her reason for saving him, he realised.

She had done it out of decency, possibly the last flickers of their friendship, and he had questioned her as though he expected nothing good from her.

The lady next to him coughed pointedly and he hurried into the steps he was supposed to perform. Eventually, after an interminable string of bows, twirls, advances and retreats, he found himself back next to Thea.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘I should have had no need to ask. Thank you, Thea.’

He looked down to his side and met her gaze as she looked up. Ruefully, she smiled. ‘It was true, I do not like her. But I don’t think you deserve her, either.’

‘A lesser woman would have thought it a very fair revenge,’ Hal observed.

‘I don’t think revenge does anyone any good,’ Thea said.

‘I can only hope that young lady thinks the same way as you do. I should watch your back for a while, if I were you,’ he warned.

Ten minutes later the dance swirled to its end. Thea curtseyed, Hal bowed, and he took her hand to walk her from the floor.

‘There is my next partner, come to claim me,’ she said when he showed no sign of releasing her.

‘Then allow me to deliver you to him. And thank you, Thea. That is twice recently you have come to my rescue.’

‘Twice?’

‘You saved me from a sobbing infant and an hysterical nursemaid,’ he said. ‘I am very much in your debt. As though I was not already,’ he added under his breath as another man stepped forward. ‘Hardcastle. I reluctantly surrender Lady Thea to you. Do not tread on her toes or you will answer to me.’

They all laughed and Thea was led away, leaving him standing looking after her.

‘Am I to see you as a rival, Duke?’ a deep, slightly amused voice at his shoulder enquired. ‘Because you are going to plunge me into deep gloom if you say yes.’

‘Porchester.’ Hal tried for a light tone. ‘Any right-thinking man would be a rival for Lady Thea’s hand, don’t you think? A lady of beauty, charm and intelligence.’

‘I shall have to find an excuse to call you out and dispose of you,’ the Earl said. ‘But then I would find myself having to flee the country, so that is no answer. And a duke trumps an earl under all circumstances. Perhaps I should simply shoot myself now,’ he added in mock despair.

‘I think you will find that the lady in question is not much interested in degrees of nobility,’ Hal said drily.

‘Indeed?’ The other man looked at him sharply, the self-mocking expression wiped from his face. ‘Do you mean that she has refused—’

‘If you are seriously looking to meet someone at dawn on a chilly heath, then I suggest you continue discussing the lady,’ Hal said, and smiled.

Porchester took a step back, hands raised. ‘Enough said. No offence was intended. To either of you.’

‘None taken,’ Hal replied with that same cold smile, wondering if the effort it was taking not to punch the other man on the jaw was showing.

Porchester nodded, and strolled off. Hal had no doubt he would continue to show his interest in Thea, but at least the Earl was warned off making suggestions that linked Hal with her.

That would do her no good at all. And he was going to see what he could discover about Porchester.

His reputation as an officer was excellent and he seemed a decent man, but what was his true character?

If he did not manage to win Thea for himself, then he was going to make damned sure that she did not fall into the hands of anyone who was unfitting of her.

As he thought it, he realised he was losing his confidence that he could persuade her to forgive him, persuade her that he could make her happy. Seeing her now, in her natural surroundings, watching other men looking at her, desiring her, he saw his own chances dwindling.

Being a duke meant nothing if the woman you wanted did not trust you, felt you had betrayed her.

But…she had helped him in Hyde Park, although probably she was more concerned for the child and his horse than she was for him. And here, this evening, she had risked her reputation to rescue him from a compromising trap. Why would she have done that if she did not feel something for him?

Simply because she is a good person , an uncomfortable little voice replied. Thea Campion would have rescued any man she had seen walking into that ambush and she must have been very tempted to leave you to fight your own way out of it.

Yes, he was going to have to fight if he wanted her—and he did, to an extent that was beginning to haunt his dreams—so he had better stop being in the wrong, or needing her help to get him out of some disaster.

Hal found that he had actually squared his shoulders and smiled wryly at himself, then the musicians stopped tuning their instruments and he looked around for his partner in the next dance, which meant he would also be escorting her in to supper.

Lady Gloria Hunter, he reminded himself, looking around for the tall brunette.

A lively young lady, he recalled. At least he would have to concentrate on something other than Thea for a while.

* * *

Thea found dancing with Mr Claud Philpott quite relaxing. The younger son of Viscount Cheney, he was amusing, unashamedly frivolous and was, Thea suspected, a gentleman who was ‘not the marrying sort’ as Mama delicately put it.

They wove their way through the London Reel, delighted with each other for being step-perfect, then went in to the supper room.

Claud found a table with another two couples, which suited Thea very well. The evening so far had been too intense for comfort and she wanted nothing more than to eat lobster puffs and drink Champagne and indulge in friendly and light-hearted conversation.

Then she saw that one of the other ladies was Penelope Chesford, the daughter of Lord and Lady Chesford, who had driven her and Hal into hiding in their godmother’s summerhouse. And Hal had said, with some emphasis—some feeling —that he had met Penelope.

But then he must have encountered a great many attractive women, Thea reminded herself, and most of them in Vienna. Penelope only made her nerves twitch because she looked very like Lady Helena Linton—very pretty, very blonde and with a pair of much-admired blue eyes.

But Penelope, who Thea had to admit was perhaps not the most intelligent of her acquaintances, had none of Helena’s sharpness. Instead, quite confident that she was the prettiest girl in the room, as her mother constantly assured her, she was sunny-tempered and kind to her friends and rivals.

‘I missed meeting your parents recently,’ Thea said to her when they were all seated. ‘I was staying with my godmother, Lady Holme, but I was not in the house when they called in on their way to London.’