Settle—how I hate that word. She closed her eyes, trying hard not to hear the worries whispering in the back of her mind. Careful; you’re weakening.
She slipped her hands behind her back and clasped them together tightly, then said as coolly as she could manage, “I can’t imagine it is a good thing to settle in marriage. You could end up with someone quite unacceptable.”
His blue gaze moved over her face. “You’ve settled. Why should nae I?”
How dare he! Why, Lance was— Not Conner. The words froze in her mind. Good God, have I settled in marrying Lance?
“Och, dinnae look so oopset. I’ll find someone. There are plenty of women who’ll welcome marriage with a privateer, so long as he has a guid name and a large fortune.”
True—she could think of four well-born ladies right now who would jump at the chance to wed Conner. All of them had tossed lures his way over the years, though she doubted he’d noticed.
Two of them were decided flirts, and though they’d profess lasting love, they were sure to wander the first time he sailed over the horizon. The other two were of such pallid intelligence that he was sure to lose interest in them before the end of the wedding service.
None of them boded well for Conner’s future happiness.
And she cared about his happiness. No matter what, he’d been her friend for a long, long time. “Surely you have someone in mind?”
He shrugged. “It dinnae matter. If ’tis nae you, then a wife is a wife.”
She couldn’t disagree more. He wasn’t the sort of man who would be happy with a meek, mild woman, nor a shallow, silly one. He needed someone who would make him laugh at life’s ironies, who would force him to face his own ridiculousness, who would show him that there was more to life than sailing away from it.
When he found that, he would fall in love deeply and forever.
And forget me completely. Her chest tightened, and she swallowed an uncomfortable lump. It’s good that I’m facing the truth. He will never fall in love with me; he’s had plenty of opportunity and nothing happened. She said in a tight voice, “I’m sure you’ll find the right woman for a wife. Just . . . do not make the decision lightly.”
“Och, Thea, if only—” His lashes lowered slightly, and he leaned forward until his face was even with hers.
For a startled moment she thought he would kiss her again, and a surge of shocking wildness raced through her, making her ache for his touch.
But he moved past her lips to her ear, where he whispered, “Suirghe fada bhon aigh, ’s posadh am bun an dorais.”
She turned her head, her eyes meeting his, her lips so, so, so near his. “What does that mean?” she whispered huskily.
His eyes darkened, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “It means, ‘Go courting afar, but marry next door.’ ”
“I don’t understand.”
He didn’t answer, but shifted away, the humor gone from his face. “Rest assured I will nae embarrass myself in my choice of wife. Whomever I marry, ’twill be someone you dinnae mind seeing at your family’s house on the holidays.”
She gaped at him. “You’d . . . you’d bring your wife to our house?”
“Nae yours, for you’ll be with the squire. But to your parents’ house? Of course. I’ll nae break that tradition and they, as weel as your brother, are still my dear friends.”
Her heart sank. Of course he’d bring his new wife to Cumberbatch House, or to whatever embassy her father happened to be attached to. Conner had only missed two Michaelmas meals in the last twelve years, joining them even when her family had been overseas.
She tried to imagine Conner at her family dining room table, where he’d been so many times before, but this time with a wife, someone he would gaze at in adoration.
Theodora found no comfort in the thought at all, and she was left with the horrifying realization that although she didn’t dare risk marrying Conner herself, neither did she wish someone else to have him.
Aware that he was watching her, her heart beating sickly, she took a step toward the landing. “I should go now. Lance will be waiting.”
“Thea, I—”
“No. I’ve—we’ve said enough.” She dipped her head and hurried to the stairs, her heart dragging behind.
9
The next morning, Lance opened the door to the coach for Theodora’s inspection.
She sighed happily when she saw the thickly padded seats, the heavy lap rugs, and the shiny gleam of brand-new foot warmers. She reached inside and rubbed her hand over the plush, soft velvet. “I’ve never seen such a luxurious coach.”
Lance said in a wistful tone, “It’s much better than my previous effort, isn’t it?”
“Very much so.” She caught the regret in his eyes and added quickly, “Not that the other carriage didn’t have its charm, too. It was far more historical.”
He chuckled. “That’s kind of you, but the seats were deuced uncomfortable. Stuffed with horse hair, I’ve no doubt, which over time can pack down until a rock feels comfortable by comparison.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
He sent her a rueful look. “It was, and you know it.”
She laughed and stepped back so Lance could close the door. She tugged her gloves back on. “I wish we could have left yesterday.”
He nodded in agreement. “So do I, but the horses are magnificent and we dared not overtire them. Luxury often carries certain responsibilities.”
“At least we’ll be on our way today.” And leave Conner behind. After spending several hours last night watching him charm Lance into a sense of camaraderie that she was certain was false, she’d expected to be more than ready to leave Conner in her wake. Instead, she felt anxious and unsure.
Stop it! That’s exactly what Conner wants, and I will not give him the satisfaction. She lifted her chin, pasted on a smile, and asked, “When do we leave?”
“I’m to fetch Miss Simmons soon. Once I bring her here, the servants will load our luggage and we’ll be off.”
Theodora nodded, wishing they didn’t have to wait for the chaperone. But there was nothing to be done for it; Lance was decided. And, even though it had been Conner’s idea originally, perhaps Lance had a point. This was no longer a simple overnight elopement, but a journey of several days.
The inn door swung open on its creaky hinges and Conner stepped out, the wind ruffling his hair as he approached. He examined her in that deucedly uncomfortable way he had, his hot gaze lingering on her hair, her mouth, and then moving to the lace at her bosom. Instinctively, she tugged her pelisse closed and buttoned it to her neck.
But that didn’t stop the slow, steady flush that traveled across her, prickling the skin on her neck. She bit her lip in an effort to stop the sensations, wishing he’d stop looking at her like that. But it wasn’t in his nature to hide his desires. She wondered if that boldness had come from spending so much time at sea, unfettered by society and as free as the wind to go where he wished.
“Your equipage is beyond compare.” Lance, still looking at the coach, nodded his approval.
“So it is.” Conner’s gaze never left Theodora, and his eyes glinted with humor.
She frowned at him. “Your coach is beyond compare.”
Lance gave a surprised laugh. “Theodora, I just said that.”
“So you did.” Conner grinned and turned to the squire. “I trust you find it sufficient to carry you on your journey.”
“I cannot imagine a more well-equipped coach. I’m tempted to take a nap in it right now.”
“Feel free. When one is used to being at sea, travel on land seems unnecessarily harsh, so I spend a wee bit extra on my conveyances. The true genius in the design is the suspension.”
“I look forward to testing it. I’m off to fetch the chaperone soon, and will return with a report.”
“I await your verdict.” Conner slid his gaze back to Theodora with a smile. “You must be well pleased. Soon you will feel a maiden of fifteen aga
in, shadowed by a chaperone, your virtue protected by hawkish eyes.”
Truth be told, Conner’s hot stare already made her feel like an uncertain miss. She ignored his words and said in a bland tone, “Thank you for offering your coach. I wish we could leave this instant.”
“Eager to be wed, are you?”
“I am!” Lance took Theodora’s hand and pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. “I’d fly if I could.”
Conner’s faint smile disappeared and his lashes dropped to obscure his expression. “You are valiant, Squire.”
Valiant—as if it took bravery to fall in love with her? She sniffed her disapproval as she reclaimed her hand from Lance.
Conner’s gaze met hers. “And you, Thea. Are you ready?”
Ready. Such a simple word, and yet it meant so many things. The word hit her like a wall collapsing upon her head. Was she ready? She found herself looking at Lance, who blandly smiled, unaware of her turbulent thoughts. She couldn’t ask for a kinder husband . . . but was that enough? What was enough?
While Lance seemed unaware her thoughts were in turmoil, Conner’s brows had lowered, a question in his eyes. “Thea?”
She collected herself. “Of course I’m ready. Spencer ironed my last gown this morning. He’s been performing miracles.”
“Spencer?” Lance asked.
“My footman and bos’n’s mate,” Conner said. “Yesterday, I sent him to assist Thea with her wardrobe.”
Lance looked surprised.
“He’s extremely talented,” Theodora assured him. “My gowns have never looked so well.”
“Then that’s another note of thanks we owe you, Douglas. That was quite kind of you.”
Conner shrugged. “It was nothing.”
But in a way, it was. Conner evaluated everything with a pragmatic eye for comfort, ease, and convenience. Things that she and he both considered important—like the quality of a coach’s suspension or the seats, or whether one had proper clothing to wear and if it was warm or dry enough—Lance never gave a thought to. She was beginning to realize that even though he was quite well off and enjoyed all the advantages of that, life was only about expedience for him, while quality and comfort were much less so. Today Lance would enjoy riding in Conner’s luxurious coach, but sometime during the course of their travels, the squire would also decide that such luxury was unnecessary and frivolous.
Lance turned to her now. “I must fetch Miss Simmons, but I will return soon.”
Theodora murmured her agreement, and he climbed into the coach and tapped the ceiling to alert the coachman. The restless grays began to move, and the coach rolled smoothly out of the inn yard.
As soon as the coach was out of sight, Conner faced her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Alone at last.” He stepped toward her.
She threw up a hand. “Stop right there.”
A challenge warmed his smile yet more. “What’s the matter, Thea? Afraid?”
“Of you? Never.” Always. As she spoke, the inn door opened and, to her intense relief, Spencer appeared.
“Dammit,” Conner muttered. “Am I to never have a moment alone with you?”
She sincerely hoped not.
Spencer joined them. “There you are, miss! I oversaw the proper packing of your portmanteau and small trunk, so everything is ready.”
“Thank you; I don’t know how I’ll get on without you. I don’t suppose I could hire you away from the good captain?”
Conner snorted. “Belay, lass! You’re nae trying to steal my men right in front of me, are you?”
She looked at him with raised brows and he gave a sheepish grin. “I suppose I’ve been guilty of worse than stealing a servant, havenae I? But all’s fair in love and war.” The twinkle remained in his eyes and it both unsettled her and drew her closer.
She was glad when he turned to Spencer. “Do nae let this woman convince you to abandon your post. She’s a siren, she is, and will make you do things you’ll regret.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” The footman grinned. “And, miss, as I’m traveling with the coach, I’ll still be available to assist you during your trip.”
“You’re going with us?”
“Aye, miss. The Cap’n thought it best if you and the squire had the benefits on your journey of what servants are available.”
“Meanwhile, I’m left withoot.” Conner sighed as if plagued by the thought, although she knew better. “By the by, Spencer, did you find time to pack my bags, or am I to do it myself?”
“I packed your things early this morning, sir.”
“Excellent. I’ll save the cat o’ nine tails for another day, then.”
The footman chuckled. “I will fetch the bags.” He bowed, and then left.
Theodora watched him as he disappeared back into the inn. “Spencer’s a good man.”
“Verrah. Sometimes I think he believes me a bit of a loose cannon.”
“You are a loose cannon.”
“Only with you, love.”
Her cheeks heated. He tossed out the word “love” as if it meant nothing, and although she knew better, she couldn’t stop a tiny trill of happiness from racing through her. She hated that, even as she was unable to stop it.
Well, if she couldn’t stop her reactions, she could at least put some space between them. “I just remembered that I left my reticule in the parlor. I must fetch it.” She headed for the door.
To her chagrin, Conner fell in beside her.
Protesting would reveal her weakness, so instead, she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone, “Where will you go once we leave?”
He opened the door and stood to one side. “I’ve an inheritance to win, remember? So I must marry.”
She stepped inside the hallway and walked toward the parlor. “Do you have someone in mind yet?”
Conner followed her inside. “Aye.”
Theodora continued to the parlor even as her heart gave a sick thud. “Already? That was quick.”
He shrugged. “You ordered me to find another.”
She had, hadn’t she? She just wished he hadn’t told her about it. In less than an hour, he’d be off to make this woman, whoever she was, his wife. Theodora decided that the less she knew, the better. But as if her brain and head were no longer connected, she heard herself ask, “She is beautiful, I suppose.”
“Of course.”
“And well bred?”
“Naturally. And one of the most intelligent women I know,” Conner added, watching Thea’s ever-changing expressions.
Her brows drew together, and she looked less than pleased. He hid his smile. He’d been thinking of Thea when he’d described his phantom intended, and it was gratifying to detect a bit of jealousy in her gaze.
Hmm, perhaps I should pursue this. Sometimes we don’t appreciate what we might have until the choice is gone. It’s true of how I feel about her. Would she feel the same about me if I were no longer available? He made his way to the fireplace, his gaze never leaving her. “Soon, we will both be wed.”
Thea picked up her reticule from a table beside the fireplace. “Do I know her?”
“Oh yes. Very well.”
“What’s her name?”
“Och, I’m nae one to flash a lady’s name aboot until I’ve a reason. If—when she agrees to wed me, I’ll introduce you.”
Thea didn’t look pleased with that announcement. “I’m sure that would be lovely.”
“Aye. I’ll be off to make her mine as soon as you and the squire leave.”
“I—I hope you’ve thought this through.”
“I’ve given my coming marriage as much thought as you have yours.”
She flushed, and said in a brittle tone, “Our cases are not the same.”
“They are exactly the same. We decided we needed to marry, and whilst our reasons might be different, our methods were equally quick. Besides, I’m only doing as you asked, although it goes sorely against my principles.”
“Your principles allow you
to seduce a woman already engaged to another man. I hardly feel they will suffer should you decide to become a respectable husband and a more worthy member of society.”
“Lass, you know how to put the worst light on things when it comes to me.”
“I know you, and you never do anything unless it benefits you.”
Conner’s smile slipped. “I dinnae deserve that.”
Her eyes blazed, and he thought she would argue. Then her shoulders slumped and she grimaced. “I’m sorry—I’m just in a quarrelsome mood this morning. You’ve been everything kind. You gave up your coach, and sent Spencer to assist with my wardrobe, as well as offering up your other servants. You’ve been kind. I’m just . . .” She shook her head. “I’m suspicious. You’re not one to give up on something, and this seems like a sudden reversal.”
“I’m nae happy with your decision, as you know. I still think you would be the best wife I could wish for. But you’ve said nae, so there’s nae much I can do aboot it, is there?”
“No.”
There was uncertainty in her brown eyes, and more than a little worry. Which that fool of a squire didn’t even notice. The man is blind. Frowning, Conner captured her hand and held it between his own. “What’s wrong, lass? You dinnae look happy.”
She flushed and pulled her hand free. “I’m fine.”
“Come. We’ve never held back from one another. Why would we start now?”
“Because things are different now.”
The words sliced him and he found himself blustering. “Nonsense. Things are nae a bit different and—”
“They are,” she said sharply. “And you know it.”
The finality of her words sent him reeling and he felt off balance, as if he were trying to keep his footing on a storm-wet deck, but he couldn’t refute the truth she’d spoken. Bloody hell, things have changed between us, and they will keep changing. God, he hated that.
Her lashes lowered and she looked at her clasped hands, her expression hidden. “Sadly, the time for us to share secrets is long gone.”
“But, Thea, who else can you talk to, if nae me? There’s nae one else here.”
That seemed to catch her, for she paused, her gaze searching his face. Finally, she shook her head. “No. It’s not wise.”
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