by Anne O'Brien
But within the third week of their distinctly uneasy acquaintance, there was a particular development in the nature of their relationship, a strange little event that gave both lady and gentleman much to consider. As Nicholas drove his curricle through the city, having visited his bank, he spied a familiar female figure. There, standing on the pavement, on the corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, was a lady whom he could not possibly mistake. She held her reticule, gloves and parasol in one hand, and a guide book, compiled for those travellers who might wish to enjoy the sights of London, open in the other. She was clearly oblivious to the small crowd of urchins and undesirables who had gathered, attracted by her obvious wealth and her unaccompanied state.
He drew in his horses beside her, a heavy frown apparent.
She looked up, a delightful picture in a gauze and satin straw bonnet, but her words did not hold the same charm.
‘Do not say anything, my lord!’
So he obligingly did not, but made no attempt to hide his disapproval of her unchaperoned situation in the City as he held his matched chestnuts under firm control. What was she thinking! The fact that her presence here had caused him a ripple of concern for her safety was rapidly discarded.
‘I am lost,’ Thea snapped. Of all people, why did it have to be Lord Nicholas Faringdon to drive past, to look down his arrogant—if beautiful—nose at her as if she were a beetle in his path? ‘I should not be here—and certainly not unchaperoned. I should have a maid with me. I should not be drawing attention to myself. Anything else, my lord?’
She had read him to perfection. He suppressed any sign of wry amusement, so his reply was cold and curt.
‘I cannot think of anything at the moment. You appear to have covered every aspect of this unfortunate situation.’
He dismounted, handing the reins to the groom, his expression not pleasant at the inconvenience. ‘I think I should return you to your family, ma’am.’
‘Why should you? I would much rather go to St Paul’s.’
Without a word he held out his hand and, when she complied—she could hardly do other in this busy street—helped her up into the curricle.
‘And why are you without your maid?’ Nicholas took his seat and the reins again, and the chestnuts stepped out with well-bred conformation.
‘Agnes is not well. A cold. It would be more than cruel of me to drag her on a sightseeing expedition.’ Theodora set her teeth, determined to remain composed. How like him to question her behaviour!
‘Would not my cousin accompany you if you were intent on exploring?’
‘Judith had other engagements.’ Her tone became noticeably more clipped.
‘You are too cavalier, ma’am. Do you have no regard for convention? What will people think? You cannot afford to set up the backs of those who are too quick to damn a lady’s reputation. The town tabbies are quick to gossip.’
‘Really?’ With his concentration on the traffic, he did not see the angry glint in that lady’s eyes. ‘I know you disapprove of me, my lord.’ She had given up any pretence at mild conversation. ‘How can I spend my life worrying about what people think?’
‘That may be all very well in the deserts of Syria or wherever you spent your formative years, with females such as Hester Stanhope setting herself up as the Queen of the Desert or some such nonsensical thing, but I fear it will not do here.’
‘This is not Syria!’
‘I am aware. But walking alone through the city? It is not appropriate, Miss Wooton-Devereux. As you well know.’
And she did—more than aware of the stark comments of Lady Drusilla if it ever came to her ears, which stirred her wrath even further. Without considering her words, she directed that wrath at Lord Nicholas. ‘How dull life would be if I worried constantly about the possibility of getting lost.’ She was soon in her stride, his reprimand a light to dry tinder. ‘How restricting and tedious if I did nothing in the chance that I became the object of social condemnation. If I stayed at home because I feared to suffer an injury, or was captured by a band of robbers who …’ Her words dried up. A stricken look on her face, Thea closed her mouth firmly and looked away so that he might not see her heightened colour.
Ah! So that was it!
Nicholas waited in silence, steering the chestnuts around a large wagon that had come to a halt in the street. He would give her time to regain her composure. He had heard the note of distress, hastily suppressed.
It worked. As the chestnuts settled again into an easy trot, Thea did not return to the dangerous topic, choosing something mildly innocuous, but continued placidly enough. ‘It was such a lovely morning, it was impossible not to take advantage of it …’
So she will not talk of it. But it distressed her considerably. Nicholas immediately pulled his horses to a standstill against the curb, to her surprise.
‘Thea …’ He touched her hand, which held tightly to her parasol, her fingers white against the ivory of the handle. ‘Is that what happened to you?’ If it drew their attention to hear her given name on his lips, neither of them gave any sign.
‘I should not have spoken.’
‘Why not? Is that why you reacted as you did in the Park, the day you struck out at me? Had you been accosted by robbers?’
‘I do not wish to speak of it.’ She shook her head, would not look at him.
‘Will you not tell me what happened?’
‘I cannot. I won’t talk about it.’ There was real distress now, in her voice and in her face.
‘Very well. I cannot force you. And would not wish to give you more cause for pain.’ His voice was low, soothing. ‘But if you ever wish to, I will listen.’
Ignoring their very public surroundings, Lord Nicholas took possession of her hand, to lift it to his lips.
‘I am grateful.’ Her hand was as cold as ice and just as rigid as it lay in his. A strained silence developed that Thea would not—or could not—break. She had not expected such compassion from him. Just as he had not expected such an admission from her.
Eventually she risked a glance at him, seeing nothing but warmth and sympathy replacing the harsh condemnation in his eyes. It drew from her an instant need to apologise. ‘I am nothing like Lady Stanhope!’
‘No.’ He could not stop the smile.
‘I would never do anything so outrageous as to wear male clothing and take a lover in the desert! Well, not often—the clothing, that is!’
‘Of course not.’
‘I am sorry if I was impolite.’
‘I must admit that you were under extreme provocation.’
‘Are you laughing at me?’ She sighed as she saw the telltale curve of his lips. ‘Yes, I was provoked—but I am grateful for the rescue. I knew that I was in the wrong.’
‘Such an admission makes me think that you are more distressed than I had believed!’ It roused a chuckle from her, which pleased him. ‘It gave me pleasure to be of service to you on so beautiful a day.’
There was a tone in his voice that Thea could not quite interpret, forcing her to look up. And then she could not look away. Equally held in the moment, Lord Nicholas raised her hand again to press his lips to her fingers, a distinct pressure, far more than a formal salute. And lingered a little until a polite cough from his groom caught his attention.
‘Some interested parties around, m’lord.’
Which brought him back to the fact that they were indeed in a very public street, which was no place to be drowning in the depths of a pair of sparkling sapphire eyes. Or enjoying the touch of silken skin. He laughed softly, perhaps to dispel his astonishment in being driven to such indecorous behaviour. But he did not let go of her hand.
‘Will you take me home then, my lord?’ Thea was as much held by the moment as he.
‘Why, no.’ He released her to pick up the reins again. ‘I think that we go on to St Paul’s. What do you say, Theodora?’
He was rewarded with the faintest hint of a smile, as if the lady had come to a momentous
decision. As perhaps she had. ‘I should like that above all things. How kind you are.’
It warmed his heart.
Which little episode led to a subtle change in their response towards each other. Theodora was nothing at all like the lady whom Lord Nicholas might consider setting up as his latest flirt. He was uneasy about his reactions to her, whereas Theodora still smarted under his stern gaze and disapproving demeanour.
But each was drawn to the other as a moth to a fatal flame.
It became an accustomed sight, giving Lady Beatrice a blaze of triumph, to see the beautiful Miss Wooton-Devereux partnering the splendid Lord Nicholas Faringdon in the waltz. He was seen to invite the lady to drive with him in Hyde Park at five o’clock, the hour of the fashionable promenade. He even volunteered his services to squire the ladies to Almack’s, giving the Earl of Painscastle reason to comment that he must be a lost cause indeed. But Lord Nicholas shook his head, admitting to himself that he was in a serious state of indecision. Yes, the lady was beautiful, interesting, intelligent—but equally outspoken, argumentative and opinionated. Not to mention given to unreliable quirks of behaviour that might make her the talk of the drawing rooms. But there again, when she walked into the room, the very quality of the air that he breathed seemed to change. He found himself entirely captivated …
Theodora was equally preoccupied, her eyes quickly scanning any room to note if he were present. And if she saw his tall figure, his dark hair, her evening took on a glow of its own. If he did not put in an appearance, the event, no matter how entertaining, was distinctly flat. She took to noticing his strong but fine-fingered hands as they controlled the reins of his high-spirited horses. The firm strength of his arm when he held her close against him in the waltz. The elegant grace when he presented her with a posy of flowers or held her reticule as she unfurled her parasol. The power of his body when he took her hand to help her take her place in the high-perch phaeton that he sometimes drove with such masterly skill. The sheer magnetism of his presence when their eyes met and neither could look away. A sad case, she decided, as delicious shivers fluttered over her skin. They were drawn to each other whether she wished it or not. She found him kind, generous, with a depth of compassion—despite his somewhat over-bearing personality and his liking to get his own way!
And if it was becoming clear to Theodora, it was becoming equally evident to Lady Drusilla that Lord Nicholas was winning a place in her daughter’s usually sensible heart. When Drusilla frowned her disapproval at Thea’s standing up with his lordship for the second time in an evening, it had absolutely no effect on her wayward offspring. And when Drusilla smiled her agreement to Thea’s accepting an innocent invitation to drive in Hyde Park with Judith, there was little she could do when she discovered that Lord Nicholas was also to be included in the invitation. Furthermore, it was patently clear that the undoubted charms of the wealthy Earl of Moreton were no competition at all against the dark good looks and dashing grace of Lord Nicholas Faringdon.
Had Lady Drusilla but known it, the matter had progressed much further than even she had believed. Lord Nicholas had organised an evening of entertainment and pleasure at Vauxhall Gardens in the form of a masked supper for family and close friends. There would be music and dancing, of course, with an orchestra to play works by Handel in the concert hall during supper. A simple enough meal with champagne and punch and the specialities of the Gardens—cold chicken and wafer-thin slices of ham, all partaken in a private supper box, hired for the occasion. A most tasteful and unexceptional occasion.
Thea was both amused and entranced, never before having visited Vauxhall with its exotic attractions. She declared the enticing groves, the maze of secluded alleys and the secret arbours and grottoes to have great charm.
‘The darkness lends enchantment, I fear.’ Lord Nicholas smiled at her obvious enjoyment. And her delectable appearance. Her gown was covered by a shimmering domino of silver silk tissue, a matching silver mask covering her face, but with no pretence at disguise. Nor for Lord Nicholas, his evening rig cloaked in severe and elegant black.
‘You are too cynical, sir. And superior. I like it very well. It reminds me of one of Mrs Radcliffe’s Gothic novels. All the caves and waterfalls. I have never seen so many temples and pavilions and rotundas, all in one place, in my life. Even you must admit to the lamps in the trees being very pretty, my lord.’
‘I will admit nothing.’
‘I suppose that you prefer the rustic and natural delights of your manor at Aymestry.’ Thea angled a glance in arched enquiry, having heard something of the delights of Lord Nicholas’s home.
‘Perhaps I do.’
‘I would wish to see it.’ Her gaze within its silver frame remained steady on his.
‘And I would wish to show it to you.’ A little silence lengthened between them, until Nicholas took himself in hand. ‘But that aside, the lights here hide a multitude of sins.’
‘Perhaps. But I will not allow you to spoil the evening by drawing attention to it!’
He hesitated again, the length of a breath. ‘I would not wish to do so. That would never be my intent.’
‘I know it.’ And although she spread her fan with a flirtatious turn of her wrist, he could not mistake the solemn appraisal in her eyes, before she turned to answer a query from Lady Beatrice, formidable if incongruous in her deep purple domino.
After supper the younger members of the party dispersed to stroll down the lamp-lit walks, assuring Lady Beatrice and a reluctant Lady Drusilla that they would most certainly remain within sight and sound of Agnes Drew, their designated chaperon for the occasion. But it was clearly destined for Lord Nicholas to draw Miss Wooton-Devereux’s hand through his arm, just as it was astonishingly easy for them to lose their companions in the deeply shadowed pathways.
‘Which do you prefer, lady. Dark Walk or Druids Walk?’ he enquired as they came to a parting of the ways.
‘Definitely Druids. Do you think we might see some after all these hundreds of years? Lurking in the groves of Vauxhall with their oak leaves and mistletoe.’
‘I doubt it—but let us try.’ He guided her along the appropriate path.
‘But we may hear nightingales, I expect.’ She slanted a look.
‘I have arranged it specially for you, lady.’
He sensed her smile in the darkness. They strolled in silence for some little way.
‘It appears that we have lost our companions,’ Theodora commented.
‘So it would seem.’ Nicholas came to a halt and turned to face her. ‘Your mama would not approve.’
‘No. She would not.’ It did not seem to trouble Theodora unduly.
The night enclosed them in deep silence, the scents of earth and flowers, soft but intense. Every sense was heightened. Nicholas could catch the perfume that Theodora wore, was supremely aware of the light touch of her fingers on his arm. When he raised a hand to loosen the strings of her mask she made no resistance.
‘Well, Miss Wooton-Devereux. I should never have known it to be you.’ He removed his own mask.
‘Your disguise was perfect, my lord.’
He bent his head and kissed her. A brush of lips against lips, soft as a sigh. Then he raised his head to look at her. ‘I should not have done that.’ A sardonic smile touched his austere features.
‘Did you not wish to do so, my lord?’
‘Why … Yes. I did. Very much.’ It was an admission to himself as much as to the lady.
‘And I should not have allowed it.’ Obviously a night for admissions.
He kissed her again, savouring the warm softness of her lips as he increased the pressure. She was quite irresistible.
And Theodora was breathless. ‘I am very glad that you did. How forward I am tonight! There is no hope for me. My reputation will be quite ruined.’
‘Do you often allow gentlemen to kiss you?’ Nicholas found himself asking. Part humour, part unease at her flippancy. Her answer suddenly mattered very much.
Serious, deadly serious, Theodora raise a hand to touch his lips ‘Oh, no. Not at all. Do you often kiss ladies in Vauxhall Gardens, my lord?’
Well, he had deserved that, had he not?
‘Certainly not! So, since neither of us is in the general way of kissing other people … I will kiss you again, Theodora, if it pleases you.’
‘Yes, Nicholas, it does.’
So he did. His hands tightened over the silk at her shoulders, to draw her closer so that his arms could enfold, his lips take possession. Still persuasive against her soft mouth, still gentle, a promise rather than a demand. But he felt her shiver against him. And Theodora could think of nothing but the incredible sensation of being kissed until sparkling bubbles raced through her blood, as fine as any of the champagne she had drunk that night. Was aware of nothing but the heat that spread its fingers from the region of her heart to every extremity. Her experience of life had never prepared her for anything such as this. If she were breathless before, now she was positively light-headed.
Much as Lord Nicholas was stunned by his reaction to this delightful creature who melted into his embrace and returned his kisses with such sweetness. He wanted her. Wanted to touch her. Wanted her for his own. He thought it would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with her.
Which exactly mirrored Theodora’s thoughts.
Her mother would indeed have been horrified.
Chapter Five
‘We need to talk, Hector.’
Because his wife, always an exemplary diplomat’s wife, rarely interrupted him when he had urgent business to complete, Sir Hector put down his pen and held out his hand in welcome to Lady Drusilla. She had come to a halt just inside the door of the library in Upper Brook Street.
‘What is it, my love? I thought you were already gone—I forget where, but somewhere with Thea.’
‘No. I have sent Thea off with Lady Beatrice and Judith. I need to talk with you and it would be better if Thea were not here.’
‘Very well.’ Sir Hector now saw the strain on his wife’s face, so immediately rose to his feet and approached to draw her into the room. ‘What has happened to put such a heavy line between your brows.’ He rubbed at it with his thumb in a quaint gesture of deep affection. ‘Is it Thea? What has she done now?’