Page 27 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

T hea assumed that she had woken up when they arrived home and had managed to walk from the carriage to her bedchamber without assistance, but she had no recollection of it when she woke.

The little carriage clock beside her bed said eleven o’clock, so she had slept heavily for at least eight hours.

But that sleep had not been dreamless, she realised as she lay looking up through the gloom of the curtained room at the fabric of the half-tester above her bed. Wisps of dreams still wove their tendrils though her mind, teasing her to catch hold of them, mocking her attempts to make sense of them.

There had been images of Hal, standing and looking back as though wondering where she was.

There was the recollection of a chase through a tangled rose garden until at last she was caught and drawn into an arbour.

But who had been chasing her? Who had caught her?

She had not been able to see the pursuer’s face.

Yet the scent of roses seemed to linger.

When she sat up against the pillows and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the wisps evaporated like mist on a hot morning, leaving her thinking clearly. And the thought that was uppermost in her mind was that she loved Hal. Desired him, wanted him, loved him.

If she wanted him, she could have him. It was that simple and that difficult, because Thea was coming to realise that loving a man who did not love you in return was hard, but that to be married to him might be torture.

She leaned over and tugged on the bell pull. Lying in bed brooding was not going to be any help at all.

Jennie came in almost immediately, bringing hot chocolate and the promise of hot water for a bath just as soon as the footmen could carry it up.

If I were a duchess I would have one of those new-fangled hot water systems installed so the men did not have to carry the buckets. And indoor privies with flushing water.

It was a nice fantasy and it lasted all through the chocolate and the bath and getting dressed, just in time to go downstairs before luncheon.

Mama had declared that all the boys would assemble for the meal.

They sat around the circular table in the smaller dining room looking unnaturally well-behaved.

Piers and Clarence managed well enough to appear at their ease and to pass plates of cold meats and to offer butter and rolls to their mother and sister.

Ten-year-old Basil and Ernest, six, were considerably less comfortable and kept being rebuked for fidgeting.

Thea strongly suspected that both had something dubious in their pockets and could only hope it was toads, which tended to stay where they were put, and not a mouse or frogs, which could escape at any moment to cause havoc.

They dutifully reported on what their morning lessons had consisted of—Latin, Greek and mathematics for the older boys, reading, writing and history for the younger two.

Piers would be off to university next year, not that he showed much enthusiasm for it, unlike Clarence, who was a much stronger scholar than his sibling and might, Thea thought, make a career in the church one day.

Having reduced her sons to silence, Mama turned to Thea and began to interrogate her on the subject of each of her partners.

‘I am glad to see that you danced twice with the Earl of Porchester. What is your opinion of him? One cannot say he has much to commend him in the way of looks.’

‘True,’ Thea conceded. She knew what was required of her, so she added, ‘But he seems exceedingly fit and healthy and he has a most pleasant and intelligent manner.’

She was then taken through all of her partners, her mother making no comment when she mentioned Hal except to tighten her lips into a thin line.

‘I heard very little news of any great interest,’ Mama announced, then proceeded to recount all the gossip from the Chaperones’ Corner, carefully edited for young ears, Thea was certain.

Not that she need have concerned herself, as the brothers all appeared to be glazed with boredom and were not attending to a word.

‘And then that rakehell Randolph Linton has got himself into a serious scrape. Not that even he would be reckless enough to show his face in London, I am certain,’ Lady Wiveton concluded.

‘Um, what has he done?’ Thea asked cautiously, but her mother rose with a slight shake of her head in Thea’s direction, declared the meal over and sent her sons off back to their tutor.

When they were seated together in the drawing room, both with their embroidery in hand, her mother said, ‘The rumour is that young Linton behaved in a most reckless way when in Yorkshire during the summer, compromising the daughter of a rural dean. He was expected to marry her, of course, although her father cannot have been delighted, as Lord Linton is merely a viscount and is so hale and hearty there can be little expectation of Randolph inheriting for many years, but the wretched young man announced he could do better for himself and promptly left the district.’

‘Goodness,’ Thea said. ‘He is very fortunate that her father is a man of the church and that she does not have a brother to call him out.’

‘Apparently, she does, but he was in Ireland visiting relatives and young Linton removed himself to safety before he could return home and challenge him.’

‘Dreadful,’ Thea murmured, bending over her stitches. Had Randolph known about his sister’s scheme to ensnare a duke? If he had, then he could well have felt his expectations would be greatly improved with such a brother-in-law.

And Helena would be smarting even more, knowing that she had not only missed the opportunity to become a duchess but that she had lost that influence to protect her brother. She would blame Thea, that was certain.

Hal had been right to be concerned and to warn her to watch out for Helena’s spite in retaliation. She shivered, hating the thought that someone out there would be hating her.

* * *

The next three days passed calmly enough. There were no more balls, but Thea was entertained well enough with a musicale, a reception, a dinner party and two art shows, one at the Royal Academy and one in Spring Gardens.

She did no more than glimpse Lady Helena at a distance at the reception and the musicale, and the other woman was not invited to the dinner party and apparently was not much interested in art. It was a relief and Thea began to relax a little about how Helena’s spite might show itself.

On the other hand, there was little sign of Hal either. Thea did see him in conversation with one of the artists at the Royal Academy, and at a distance at the reception, where he arrived late and left early, so there was no opportunity to exchange even a greeting.

Was he avoiding her, or was she giving herself far too much importance and the obvious explanation—that he was simply not interested in, or invited to, the same events—was the correct one?

Her composure was not helped by the weather, which blew wet and blustery every day, stripping the trees bare of leaves and piling them in soggy heaps in every corner, or making roads treacherously slippery for horses.

Finally the rain stopped and, after a day of brisk breezes and sunshine, even Hopkins, Thea’s protective groom, declared it was safe enough under foot to ride out.

* * *

‘Should have taken her out meself and shaken the fidgets out of her,’ he worried as Lara bounced, shied and fidgeted her way towards Hyde Park that afternoon. ‘You keep you heel down good and firm and don’t take any nonsense from her,’ he warned Thea as they negotiated the traffic.

Despite his grumbling they arrived safely in the park which was, by then, empty of children and their attendants and beginning to attract quite a number of riders and carriage drivers.

Thea chose a different ride for the one where she had encountered Hal and the little lad with his hoop, and kept Lara to a controlled canter towards the Queen’s House in the far south-west of the park.

Ahead was quite a knot of riders, perhaps a dozen in all, and Thea slowed to a walk, not wanting to ride off through the longer grass to detour around them, for fear of her mount slipping.

She was hailed by the nearest rider facing her, who she saw was one of the Chelmsford twins, and reined in close to her.

‘Good afternoon! What a relief to be out in the fresh air again, is it not?’ she said and her greeting was returned by several people she knew.

The group opened up, people shifting their mounts in clear invitation for her to move in amongst them.

It was not until she had done so, finished greeting acquaintances and turned her mare to face into the group, that she realised she was opposite Lady Helena and a lanky young man who she guessed from the likeness, was her brother, Randolph, the compromiser of the clergyman’s daughter.

Her immediate instinct was to make some excuse, back Lara out of the group and canter off, but that would seem exceedingly odd when she had only just arrived and she would be snubbing a number of her friends and acquaintances.

Thea looked right through Helena then smiled at Major Lord Harper to her right.

From the corner of her eye she could see Helena lean over to whisper something to her brother and he shifted slightly to stare at her.

It was awkward, but she managed to speak to enough people around the group for it not to be obvious that she was avoiding Helena.

Randolph made some remark to Lord Harper, who answered him rather shortly, Thea thought, and wondered if gossip about the young man’s behaviour was now widespread.

She had begun to feel she could move on now without it seeming awkward when another rider joined the group.

Lara lifted her head and whickered a greeting to the big grey mare. Hal, who was exchanging greetings with two of the other men, looked across, saw them and rode through the group to her side.