Page 5 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

D espite a slight shininess about the cuffs, and the fact that the style was a trifle out of fashion, Hal Forrest’s evening suit was beautifully cut, Thea realised when she had caught her breath again.

Only master London tailors could produce such elegant simplicity where any fault in the cut, fit or the wearer’s body would be ruthlessly exposed.

Perhaps Mr Forrest had suffered a financial reverse.

Or he might have had a lucky win at the tables, or betting on a horse the year before, and had spent the windfall on a new suit of evening clothes.

Thea did not want to be hustled into marriage, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with her eyesight, nor her appreciation of an attractive man.

And Hal Forrest was attractive, with that dark brown hair and those grey eyes and that height.

He was not exactly copybook handsome—his nose had suffered a break at some point and the set of his jaw gave his face a certain unyielding quality when he was not smiling—but he moved with athletic ease and his shoulders were in absolutely no need of any padding by his tailor, nor his calves by a valet.

He bowed slightly to the ladies and Thea, once more in control of herself, inclined her head in response as he settled into one of the armchairs facing their sofa.

Just what did Mr Forrest do in life? If he was a younger son of a titled family, the options were usually the Army or the Navy, the church, the East India Company, or perhaps estate management.

But he was not wearing uniform and, if he was a clergyman, he did not wear the white collar with the two fluttering white tabs that the clergy normally did.

If he was with the East India Company he would be in India or London.

So, estate management for his father or an older brother, perhaps?

Or he might have an independent income from an inheritance, of course, or a small estate of his own.

Thea managed to speculate while making polite and meaningless chit-chat about how pleasant the evening was now the light rain had passed over and yes, what a charming portrait that was of their godmother as a young married lady.

It smiled down at them from above the fireplace with that hint of mischief that always delighted Thea.

‘Do you make a long stay in this district, Mr Forrest?’ she enquired after her godmother had made them laugh by lamenting the passing of the fashion for yards of heavy brocade and wide skirts.

‘At least a week, I hope,’ Lady Holme said firmly before he could answer. ‘It is not often that I am able to enjoy the company of two of my favourite godchildren at the same time.’

‘Favourite, Godmama?’ Hal Forrest said with a teasing note. ‘I am sure you say that to all of us.’

‘Have you met the Johnstone twins?’ Godmama queried with a speaking look.

‘Hellions, the pair of them. And, not naming any names, two of the girls in my little flock are as insipid a pair as one might encounter anywhere. I favour intelligence, wit, a cheerful disposition and good taste, and in a few of you, I have it, thank goodness.’

When she mentioned good taste, Thea thought she could almost see the strain on Mr Forrest’s face as he studiously did not look in the direction of her gown.

‘Mr Forrest must be wondering at your judgement, Godmama,’ she said with a light laugh, glad of the opening to explain why she looked such a dowd. ‘This is the sole evening gown in my possession at present,’ she informed him. ‘It was considered suitable for Harrogate.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I shall make a note not to look to that town for an enlivening stay in that case. I imagine that greens and blues are more to your taste, Lady Thea. Or perhaps a more vibrant shade of red.’

‘Red? With my hair?’

‘The right shade would intensify the colour,’ he said, head tipped slightly to one side as he studied her. It should have been impertinent, but it felt detached, almost as though he was giving his opinion on the shade of a wall hanging, or a variety of rose.

‘Far be it for me to criticise a parent,’ their godmother said, doing just that, ‘but one feels that Lord and Lady Wiveton have overreacted somewhat. It is hardly as though dear Thea is unlikely to make a most satisfactory match, duke or no duke. But I am sure a letter from me and her own note of explanation will allow them to reconsider their stance.’

Thea was not so certain about that, but she was becoming desperate to think, and talk, about something else.

‘Of course,’ she said with a bright smile for her godmother. ‘I am not going to allow myself to worry about it. Have you a wide acquaintance in the district, Mr Forrest?’

Her sudden change of subject appeared to have taken him by surprise and he hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘It is quite some time since I was in the area.’

That was not quite what she had asked, but Thea took that as a negative, and a not very informative one at that.

‘Perhaps you intend to explore the countryside as it is unfamiliar to you,’ she said.

‘You do not have any commitments drawing you away? A parish left in the hands of a curate, for example?’

It was blatant fishing, and she could have perfectly well asked Godmama, but she was curious about Mr Forrest’s reticence.

‘You take me for a clergyman?’ He looked so appalled that she laughed. ‘The Archbishop of Canterbury would never make so grievous an error as to allow me to be ordained. No, I own some land, and there is nothing that requires my urgent attention just now.’

‘So, a landowner and a sinner,’ Thea teased. ‘Now I have you neatly pigeonholed, Mr Forrest.’

‘Not a very great sinner, I hope, Lady Thea,’ he replied, his mouth curving into a smile. ‘But I am a restless man and I like to travel. Any parish in my care would find itself all too frequently left to an overworked curate.’

She smiled encouragingly, but no interesting tales of his travels resulted, so it seemed that Mr Forrest liked to keep himself to himself.

That was certainly his right and just because she had poured out the tale of her own situation to him, he was under no obligation to satisfy her curiosity in return, she told herself firmly.

‘Had you heard that Lord Brownlow has been created an earl, Hal?’ Lady Holme enquired.

‘He has had Wyattville working on Belton House and grounds for years—he clearly expected this elevation. I mention it because I thought you might be interested in the works. Brownlow has no objections to neighbours riding over his lands. Likes to show it off, I suspect,’ she added.

‘He is creating an Italian garden about which I would like your opinion.’

‘Thinking of stealing the idea, Godmama? I am sure Lord Brownlow would be flattered by your interest. I imagine Juno will be rested by tomorrow. Do you care to ride, Lady Thea?’

‘I do, but with neither horse nor habit…’

‘That will be no problem, my dear,’ Godmama said immediately, as Thea had rather hoped she would. ‘You may borrow one of my outfits.’ She slid her foot to the side against Thea’s, glanced down and nodded. ‘My boots too. Nero would suit you, I am sure.’

‘Our mounts are a Roman goddess and a Roman emperor,’ Mr Forrest remarked. ‘Clearly, it is meant to be.’

Thea was saved from having to reply to that by the sound of Fenwick the butler clearing his throat.

‘Dinner is served, my lady.’

Mr Forrest stood and, very correctly, offered his arm to his godmother. She shook her head and indicated Thea, then swept out ahead of them, the demi-train of her gown swishing over the Chinese carpet.

‘Lady Thea?’

‘Mr Forrest.’ She put her fingertips on his forearm and was escorted into the dining room, where he held her chair for her before taking his place opposite on their godmother’s left hand.

As the footman shook out her table napkin for her, Thea realised two things. One, she was hungry, and two, she was tired. Very tired. The tension that had gripped her ever since that confrontation with her parents had left her and with it the energy that had kept her going through her flight.

Perhaps, she thought, as the soup was set in front of her, she could regain the strength to make polite conversation throughout the meal, but she doubted it. The best she could hope for was not to yawn.

* * *

Lady Thea was decidedly subdued, Hal thought as the soup and the fish plates were removed in turn and all the young woman opposite contributed to the conversation were answers to direct questions.

She was exhausted now she had found sanctuary, he diagnosed, and concentrated on talking to his godmother so Lady Thea did not feel obliged to join in. On the other hand, he could not neglect her, so he tried to find a balance, with offers to pass the bread rolls and occasional smiles.

How many other young ladies would have the courage to stand up to their parents and refuse the marriage they favoured? And how many of them would not be so dazzled by the prospect of becoming a duchess that they could look beyond that and decide for themselves whether or not they would be happy?

The Duke of Leamington was going to lose a rather extraordinary duchess if he was not very careful.

He wondered just how, and when, Lord Wiveton was intending to explain to His Grace that his intended had fled rather than marry him.

The excuse of a minor indisposition could only suffice for a short while.

It would make for an interesting conversation.

‘What is causing you to smile so, Hal?’ Lady Holme enquired.

‘This excellent beef, Godmama. My compliments to your chef.’

She nodded. ‘From our own herd. Fenwick, please convey Mr Forrest’s compliments to Anton.’