Page 28

“Good gracious! You’re not even dressed. Up! Up! You have a caller,” Lady Broadbent said, her cane tapping on the floor as

she entered the bedchamber.

Confused by the commotion, Thea lifted her head from her desk on a groan. Her eyelids weighed twenty stone. Each.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue felt like a lump of cotton wool. “What time is it?”

“After ten, slugabed. Don’t tell me that is where you slept.” Tutting, the countess peeled a sheet of paper from her cheek.

“Oh dear, you look as though you’ve been tattooed like those tribesmen that your brother encountered on his travels. I’ll

ring for some lemon. Your maid would have come but I’ve been informed that both Tally and Beth have come down with colds.

So we’ll have to make do.”

“That’s awful,” she said through a yawn and received an arched eyebrow as the countess tied back the curtains.

“Indeed. The physician has been here and gone. He assured me that it is nothing a bit of rest and hot broth won’t cure. You

see, some of us have already accomplished a great deal this morning.” That last remark was tossed over her shoulder as she ambled to

the wardrobe. “Come, come, my dear. Don’t dawdle.”

Thea did her best to stand up from the chair, but every bone in her body seemed to be fused in a slumped-over position.

It felt as though she were wading through reeds, her progress slow and crackling.

And the farther she moved away from her desk, the more she felt as though she were leaving her night with St. James behind.

But wait , she thought, her pulse leaping in hopeful speculation. “You said I have a caller?”

“And one who is pacing in the morning room as we speak. I implored him to break his fast, but he said he couldn’t eat until

he’d spoken with you. Which, I must admit, reveals a strong, upstanding character.”

Thea’s pulse hammered excitedly at the thought that St. James was unable to stay away. She swiftly started to unplait her

hair, her fingers tangling in her haste. “He does have a fine character, does he not?”

“Even so, I am still quite vexed,” the countess continued as she withdrew a Pomona green day dress with scalloped lace along

the sleeves and bodice. “He never should have left you at the mercy of St. James.”

Thea stopped, understanding dawning in her sluggish brain. “Captain Summerhayes. He is my caller.”

“Yes, of course. Though I am ready to rail at him for taking Miss Handscombe to the floor.”

“I’m sure it was simply a misunderstanding,” she said, trying to stifle her disappointment.

“That may be true, but it is not he who bears the weight of the scandal.” Lady Broadbent expelled a breath and shook her head.

“A dozen missives have arrived already, sending regrets that our invitations were made in error. We must repair the damage

that has been done. Though, at the moment, I know not how.”

Feeling guilty for having enjoyed most of her evening, Thea took the countess’s hand and offered an affectionate squeeze.

“Together, we shall think of something.”

***

It took the better part of an hour before Thea was presentable. A faint blue scrawl lingered on her left cheek, but she did

her best to angle her face so that he would not see it.

As she’d taken the lemon water to her face, she’d had to bite down a hysterical laugh the instant she’d deciphered the namyawhgih emblazoned on her skin.

After last night, it somehow seemed apt that the mark she bore read highwayman in reverse.

The instant she and the countess stepped into the parlor, the captain turned from his thoughtful pose by the window and strode

directly to her.

“Allow me to beg your forgiveness, Miss Hartley,” he said, bowing his dark head, his handsome features stricken in self-contempt.

“Had I known that you had not turned your ankle as I’d been informed, I would never have agreed to the favor asked of me.

The plot only became apparent as the very one who’d presented himself as a champion for Miss Handscombe was actually deceiving

me in order to dance with you.”

“What’s all this?” Lady Broadbent asked. “Are you saying that St. James had you dance with Miss Handscombe?”

“Aye, my lady. His uncle, Lord Redcliffe, had the honor of the dinner waltz with Miss Handscombe. St. James informed me that

his uncle had taken ill quite suddenly, but feared that if he offered to step in, then Miss Handscombe would feel doubly slighted,”

he said. “Then, he informed me that Miss Hartley had turned her ankle during the previous dance. Since I didn’t see her when

I first returned from the terrace, where he and I had been in conference, I believed him. For that, I owe you my humblest

apology, Miss Hartley. I should’ve sought you out.”

She offered a nod of acceptance. At the time, she had been hurt. And yet, without the dance with St. James, she never would have experienced the most thrilling night of her life.

A wave of guilt flooded her cheeks as she realized that while the captain had been fretting over this, she had been kissing

St. James. “I accept your apology and hold no ill will toward you. It is clear that you were misinformed.”

“Though you are most generous, I cannot accept your forgiveness. You suffered grievously and I am, at least in part, to blame.”

A bubble of laughter escaped her. “Then we have just played a very poor game of badminton with the apology dead on the floor

between us.”

His mouth quirked as he inclined his head. “Perhaps there is a way for me to earn your forgiveness, or to believe as though

I have done. If you would permit me, I should like to take you for a drive through the park some afternoon when the weather

is fine.”

She thought again of St. James. How would he take the sight of her out with another man? Being courted by another man?

It was foolish to wonder such things. He made it clear that he wouldn’t pursue her and that they couldn’t be seen together.

She knew this as well, even if every drop of blood in her body longed to sprint through her veins as it only did with him.

“I would be honored, Captain Summerhayes,” she said with a resolute smile.

Then he bent as if to pick up something from the floor and held out his open palm. “I will leave you in charge of our badminton

until then, Miss Hartley.”

After she pantomimed pinching the invisible offering by the feathers, he grinned, a spray of attractive creases beside his

eyes.

“My lady,” he said, bowing to the countess, then took his leave.

Lady Broadbent waited for the sound of the front door closing, then she waggled her fan at Thea. “To have such an important man—not to mention a devilishly handsome one—take such consideration clearly means that you have another admirer. Well done, my dear.”

“I did nothing to earn his regard, and the brief conversation we had at the ball contained little importance.” She shrugged.

“Clearly, it was enough for him. And that witticism with the badminton was quite clever. He certainly seemed taken by you.”

Lady Broadbent’s lips pursed, a however hovering in the air like the odor of cigars in the dining room after a dinner party. “However, this one will not linger long

as a bachelor, I should think, especially if the matrons of the ton have their way. There are many young women who would leap at the chance to secure such a man. Though not many of those would

be in their third Season.”

Thea understood perfectly. If she had any interest in the captain, she should make him aware of her regard at once to secure

him.

“I have it,” Lady Broadbent declared with a rap of her fan against the arm of the chair. Then she waved her hand in an impatient

gesture toward the escritoire on the far side of the room. “Take down a missive, my dear. I know precisely how to extricate

us from the grip of scandal.”

Lowering the hinged table, Thea withdrew a sheet of paper and uncapped the ink. “To whom should I address it?”

“To Madame LeBlanc. We shall request an audience with her at once. After all, who better than the premier modiste to turn

the tides in our favor by discreetly supplying the correct view of events at the Leighton Ball.”

Thea didn’t like the sound of this. “And what exactly is the correct view?”

“Why, that you have bewitched St. James, through no fault of your own, of course. And his villainous actions left the honorable Captain Summerhayes with no choice other than to escort Miss Handscombe to the floor.”

“But you heard the captain. St. James knew that Miss Handscombe wouldn’t wish to dance with him, so he merely offered her

a replacement. Then, so that I wouldn’t feel slighted, he danced with me.”

“Pish tosh. No one will believe him capable of orchestrating such a farce. And one could hardly accuse him of being noble

after all that he’s done to ruin your gowns.”

Lady Broadbent wasn’t saying anything that hadn’t been said before. But she didn’t know St. James the way Thea did. Though,

to be honest, she didn’t know much about him either. Certainly not enough. But what she did know was good and clever and sweet.

And he was capable of a great many things.

Like kissing , she thought as another flush of heat crept to her cheeks.

But even before the kissing, she had seen more inside him. Surely the countess had to see something more as well. “That day

when he came to call, you said he was charming.”

“Did I?”

As a pair of dove gray eyebrows inched higher, Thea felt her lungs fill with hope. Perhaps the countess would understand and

even invite him to dinner one evening. Once they were better acquainted, she was certain that—

“I cannot imagine what I’d been thinking,” Lady Broadbent said dismissively.

Thea remembered reading about one of the first flights of the Montgolfier balloon. It had soared up over the trees in a magnificent

display. But as it descended in a nearby village, the people were so frightened that they came at it with pitchforks and spades

until that wonderful thing was nothing more than a sad, defeated lump on the ground.