Page 6 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

The food seemed to revive Lady Thea somewhat, but by the time she had taken the last spoonful of lemon posset he could tell that she was flagging.

Not that it was obvious. Like all young ladies, she had been trained from an early age to maintain a perfect posture and to stay awake and smiling through everything from a tuneless piano recital to a lecture from a crabby old dowager.

When Lady Holme rose to leave him to port and nuts and Lady Thea following her example, Hal said, ‘Will you forgive me if I retire now? I recall that I have letters I should write in order that they may go first thing tomorrow.’

Now he would have to produce something to put out for the post, but, hopefully, Lady Thea would also feel she could retire now too.

* * *

‘Hal was always tactful, even as a boy,’ Godmama remarked as they settled together on a sofa in the drawing room.

‘I recall looking out of a first-floor window here—the one that overlooks the maze—and seeing him come across Lady Shawfield and…

and someone who was not her husband. He simply turned on his heel and walked away and I never saw him betray by so much as a flicker of an eyelash that he knew her secret.

‘And now you can take advantage of that tact and take yourself off to bed too, my dear. You must be very weary. We do not want you to have dark circles under your eyes, do we?’ Uncharacteristically, for one so calm and composed, she smoothed her satin skirts over her knee and twitched at a bracelet.

Thea winced inwardly. Her godmother must be concerned about her own part in this flight. But her own letter would soon make it clear that Godmama had done nothing except shelter her. Surely her parents would be grateful for that?

‘I have to confess I am finding it hard to keep my eyes open,’ she said. ‘If you will excuse me, I will go to bed now. Thank you for being so understanding about everything.’

She kissed Lady Holme on one scented cheek and went out, passing Fenwick in the hall.

‘I will send up Jennie immediately, my lady,’ he said in response to her wishing him good-night.

* * *

Thea supposed she must have undressed and removed her jewellery, that Jennie had unpinned and brushed out her hair and helped her into her nightgown, but when she woke the next morning, she had no recollection of it.

The room was dark, but sunlight was visible at the edges of the heavy curtains, so she reached out, groping for the bell pull, and sat up against the pillows.

She hadn’t dreamt at all, that she could recall, but she felt as though she had spent the night with dark, ominous fantasies filling her mind.

Jennie’s arrival with a cup of hot chocolate jerked her into the present and the flood of light as the curtains were drawn, and the need to speak pleasantly to the maid, helped.

‘Her ladyship’s woman has given me the riding habit for you, my lady. If you would not object to trying it on before breakfast, I can make any alterations immediately.’

Of course, she remembered. She had agreed to ride to Lord Brownlow’s estate with Mr Forrest. It was what she needed to blow away these megrims—fresh air and exercise.

‘Of course, just as soon as I have finished this and bathed.’

* * *

Jennie, speaking through the pins tight between her lips, pronounced the habit too large in the bodice and waist, but otherwise acceptable.

‘It will be ready by ten o’clock, I hope, my lady.’

‘That would be admirable, thank you.’

Thea encountered Mr Forrest in the doorway of the breakfast room. As she expected, there was no sign of their godmother, who probably would not emerge from her suite until at least noon.

‘Lady Thea.’ Mr Forrest stood aside to let her precede him and they sat opposite each other at the small oval table while two footmen poured coffee and explained what was under the row of chaffing dishes on the sideboard.

‘I find I am ravenous this morning,’ Thea confessed as her choice of a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, sausage and fried potatoes was set in front of her.

‘It is hardly surprising,’ Mr Forrest remarked, lifting his knife and fork to attack a similar selection. ‘You must have had little possibility of finding a good luncheon during your escape and expending nervous energy is always exhausting, in my experience.’

‘Somehow I find it unlikely that you ever expend nervous energy, Mr Forrest,’ she teased. ‘You seem to me to be a gentleman who is always cool, calm and collected.’

‘That is quite deceptive,’ he riposted. ‘I am like a swan. All is calm above the water but frantic paddling is going on below.’

Laughing, she bent to look under the table. ‘No, your webbed feet are quite at a standstill, sir.’

‘Have you been able to find a riding habit, Lady Thea? I am very much looking forward to our expedition.’

Mama was most insistent on keeping what she called a ‘proper distance,’ which meant always insisting on the use of one’s title and condescending to mix with anyone of lower status only on the most formal of terms. But, Thea realised, she was tired of formality, and she had no desire whatsoever to condescend to anyone.

Mr Forrest made her smile and there always seemed to be laughter or understanding in those grey eyes.

And he was, indisputably, a gentleman, and one whose discretion had been vouched for by their godmother.

‘Please call me Thea,’ she said. ‘After all, I am here escaping from the consequences of being the daughter of an earl.’ She held her breath. What would he say? Be shocked?

‘Hal,’ Mr Forrest responded with an inclination of his head. ‘I would be delighted, Thea. May I pass you the rolls?’

‘The toast, please, Hal.’

Now she was seriously wondering just who he was, because he had not batted an eyelid and appeared equally at ease using her title or not.

It would be perfectly possible to be the grandson of a duke or a marquess and to have no courtesy title, she thought.

But then there were the faintly shabby clothes…

Forrest? Perhaps an examination of the Peerage might solve the question. Or I could always ask him directly, of course.

But somehow Hal Forrest, friendly and smiling as he was, had the demeanour of a man with a high fence around those aspects of his life that he did not chose to share.

Thea felt certain that a blunt enquiry would be met with a politely vague response, leaving her just as baffled as before.

Either that, or a snub, and she had no desire to jeopardise this pleasant new acquaintanceship.

I can always ask Godmama. That is the logical thing to do. He is not wearing a wedding ring…

‘I am told that my habit will be ready at ten,’ she said, dismissing that completely irrelevant thought. ‘Will half past the hour suit you for our ride?’

‘Certainly, I think it will take us about three quarters of an hour to reach the Brownlow estate. I will tell the grooms when to bring the horses around and have a word with Anton about something to pack in my saddlebags to sustain us until we return.’

‘After this breakfast I doubt I will be able to eat until dinner time,’ Thea said ruefully, and liked it when he laughed with her and did not make a meaningless protest about her sylphlike figure or some other gallant nonsense.

* * *

She liked it even more when Hal did compliment her, with clearly genuine feeling, when the first thing Nero did as they rode out from under the stable yard arch was to shy violently at the stable cat.

‘You have an excellent seat,’ Hal said when she steadied the gelding from his sideways plunge across the gravel and turned him to face the cat.

Nero snorted and tossed his head and the cat sat and licked a paw with insolent unconcern.

‘There, you ridiculous creature. What a fuss about nothing. You see that cat every day of your life. Thank you,’ added to Hal as, horse steadied, she turned to ride alongside his big grey mare.

‘I very much enjoy riding. I would like to learn to drive a pair as well, but Papa considers that all females must be positively cow-handed when it comes to carriage driving, so I am left with just a pony and trap.’

‘Perhaps you could persuade him to study some of the ladies driving in various parks at the fashionable hour. I have observed several real dashers driving high-bred teams with aplomb.’

Interesting. Mr Forrest is not just a countryman, then.

Thea stored that piece of information away, although quite why, she was not certain.

‘That is a very fine horse. And large,’ she said, looking across at the almost white mare. ‘Sixteen hands?’

‘Yes. She is half Lipizzaner. The Lipizzaner stud was moved around Europe to evade Napoleon and it seems Juno’s dam was lost along the way, became rather too friendly with a handsome Hanoverian stallion and Juno is the result.’

‘You were fortunate to acquire her.’

‘She was raised from a foal by a friend of mine who later fell on hard times. He would not accept a gift from me, but he allowed me to buy her.’

Thea’s silent speculations about that were interrupted by Nero’s impatient head-tosses.

‘Too slow for you?’ she asked the gelding, eying the wide verges that bordered the carriage drive. The horse flicked an ear back, attending to her voice. ‘You do not think you can outrun Juno, do you?’

‘Shall we see?’ Hal guided Juno to the left-hand verge. ‘You take the right-hand side. It may be a fair match over this distance: Nero looks built for speed and Juno has great endurance, but she is no sprinter. First one to the lodge gates?’

‘Very well.’ Thea positioned Nero on her allocated verge. ‘One, two, three. Go!’

The gelding surged forward. There was a pounding of hooves to her left, but she could not see the big grey. The wind was in her face, the ground a green blur, and Thea realised with a surge of emotion that she was feeling happy for the first time in days.

This was freedom. This was pure, physical exhilaration and, somehow, the presence of this man she had met only the day before lifted the sensations to a new level. Thea laughed in pure joy.