by Sandra Heath
Slowly she folded the note and slipped it into her sequinned velvet reticule. Why on earth was Kit on the Spindrift at this hour? What could possibly be more important than his promise to be with her? For a moment she considered ignoring the note, as a token of her severe displeasure, but then she thought again. Kit was an exciting lover, and she enjoyed the danger of a liaison with the man her husband hated most in all the world. Perhaps she’d be wiser to answer the note. She glanced toward the Duke of Gloucester and Princess Sophia, seated in golden chairs directly in front of the unfortunate Mr Griesley. Their permission would have to be sought if she was to leave the concert halfway through. What would be the best excuse? She thought for a moment. A headache, yes, that would be ideal, for the princess was a martyr to them herself.
Thea rose discreetly to her feet, slipping around the edge of the tightly packed audience to curtsy before the royal brother and sister. Sophia Mathilda was a plain but charming spinster of thirty-eight, with a diamond tiara in her prematurely graying hair, and a heavily embroidered green velvet gown encasing her plump person. The duke was a few years younger, with a large, stout body and spindly legs, and he liked to dress very grandly, with much gold braiding and as many orders and decorations as he could muster. He was pompous and boring, and always expected to be treated with full ceremony, but even though he was staring fixedly at the orchestra, it was nevertheless he who noticed Thea first.
‘Lady Rowe?’ he murmured, his popping eyes moving slowly over her.
‘Your highness, I crave your pardon, but I’m exceedingly indisposed with a headache and beg your understanding and indulgence to—’
Princess Sophia’s attention was dragged away from Mr Griesley’s excellence. ‘Certainly, Lady Rowe,’ she said quickly, waving her away. ‘I trust you will soon be recovered.’
‘Your highness is very kind,’ replied Thea, bowing her lovely head gratefully and then withdrawing as quickly as possible.
She hurried from the packed room, her damson silk skirt whispering richly and the plumes of her head streaming softly.
Behind her, Mr Griesley gave his all with the hautbois.
4
As Thea’s landau drove onto the quay, a flash of lightning illuminated everything, and then there was darkness again, broken by a loud roll of thunder directly overhead. The rain seemed to intensify, tamping on every surface and running in rivulets along the gutters. From the Mermaid Inn there still came the sound of laughter and singing, and the lantern swung on the warehouse close to the Spindrift.
Kit heard the landau approaching, and he immediately came ashore. He took out his fob watch. The tide was almost ready, there were only minutes to go before he’d have to set sail for the mainland.
The landau drew to a standstill, the team stamping and tossing their heads as the downpour soaked them. Kit flung open the door and looked in at Thea. His top hat threw his face in shadow, but she saw his quick smile.
‘I’m glad you came,’ he said softly, his voice almost drowned by the noise of the storm.
The wind was chill, making her shiver a little as it touched her bare arms. She drew her shawl more closely. ‘Why are you here, Kit? What’s happened?’
‘I have to go to the mainland tonight.’
Her eyes widened. ‘In this weather?’
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s madness! What possible reason can you have that’s important enough?’
‘I can’t tell you here. Come aboard.’
She was loath to agree, for she still felt angry with him for failing to join her at the concert, but she slipped her hand into his and alighted from the landau. The rain was cold and the wind snatched at her flimsy damson skirt.
He led her quickly across the quay and over the gang-plank onto the deck of the cutter, ushering her toward the stern, where a narrow hatch led belowdeck to the vessel’s single, exceedingly small cabin. As Kit closed the hatch behind them, the noise of the storm was immediately stifled.
The cabin was spartan, containing a narrow, curtained bunk, a small table and chair, and a sea trunk. During the day it was lit by a fine window in the stern, but now, in the darkness, light was provided by two gimbel-mounted candlesticks on the wall. The flames had shivered as the hatch was opened and the night air swept in, but they swiftly settled again.
Kit untied his wet cloak, hanging it on a hook, then he removed his top hat and gloves, tossing both onto the table before turning to face Thea. He was wearing a plain, excellently cut brown coat and very tight buckskin breeches that outlined his fine form to perfection, leaving very little of his anatomy to the imagination. His top boots were the work of Hoby of St James’s Street, and his cravat was tied in the very latest fashion. He was above average height, with broad shoulders and slender hips, and always managed to look effortlessly elegant and graceful. There were centuries of breeding and quality in his lean, sunburnt face and clear blue eyes, and a hint of devil-may-care in his finely chiseled lips. His tousled fair hair was usually just a little wavy, but tonight, because of the downpour, it was wet and tightly curled. There was something of the prince and the Viking about him, and it was an exciting mixture that never failed to stimulate her. Looking at him now, she wanted nothing more than to submit to him, but she was still angry, and anger always made her contrary.
She faced him haughtily. ‘Why did you ask me to come here, Kit? If there’s something so vastly important waiting for you on the mainland that you must up and go even on a night like this, I marvel that you bothered to send word to me at all.’
He smiled a little. ‘You know full well that I’d never leave without good reason, and you also know that I wouldn’t go without seeing you first.’
‘Without sending for me like a lackey, you mean,’ she said petulantly.
‘Some lackey,’ he murmured, allowing his glance to move appreciatively over her.
She flushed a little, pleased in spite of herself. ‘You presume, sir.’
‘So I do.’
She felt her pulse quicken. ‘Why are you leaving Cowes so quickly?’ she asked.
‘I’ve received an urgent note from Tom Cherington. He needs me in London.’
‘Needs you? What can that good-for-nothing wastrel possibly need you for?’
‘I know your opinion of him, Thea, but he happens to have recently become a very good friend of mine. He also happens to have got himself embroiled in a duel at dawn the day after tomorrow, with your husband.’
She stared at him then. ‘He what? A duel with Rowe? Is he mad?’
‘Mad? No. Unfortunate? Yes, most probably, for he was unwise enough to detect Rowe cheating at cards. Anyway, the upshot of it all is that Tom has asked me to be his second. I regard it as my duty to go, and I must be there well before time if I’m to stand any chance of dissuading him.’ He met her eyes. ‘It has to be Tom who retracts, for we know full well that Rowe never will.’
She looked away. ‘Any man fool enough to cross Rowe deserves all he gets.’
A light passed through his eyes. ‘Thank you.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘It doesn’t matter if you did or didn’t, the fact remains that if anyone deserves to have to face your husband, it’s my good self. However, I’m not the one in question, poor Tom Cherington is, and I intend to offer him whatever support I can. He hasn’t any family – they’re all dead – and so he needs me.’
‘I need you too,’ she said quickly, wanting to persuade him to stay. She didn’t care a fig for Tom Cherington, who disliked her as much as she disliked him.
‘Thea, in this particular instance he needs me much more.’
She tossed her lovely head again, her anger still simmering. ‘Am I to hope you’ll deign to return within a few days? Maybe you’ve forgotten the race with Lord Grantham?’
‘I’d hardly forget that.’
‘And while you’re away I suppose I’m expected to amuse myself with my embroidery?’
He smiled, allowing his glance to
move lazily over her. Thea, Lady Rowe, was fashioned for pastimes much more stimulating than embroidery. He found her totally fascinating, totally adorable, and he needed to have her as his wife, nothing less would do anymore. And that was what he needed to broach before the Spindrift set sail.
The warmth of his glance affected her, as it always did, and suddenly she found herself setting her anger aside to go to him. She slipped her slender arms around his waist, pressing close as she reached up to kiss him on the lips. She lingered over the kiss, moving her body sensuously against his and savoring the beguiling warmth that began to steal deliciously through her, as always happened with this man.
For a long, long moment he responded, folding her in his arms and almost crushing her, but then he drew back, cupping her face in his hands and looking deep into her eyes. ‘My darling,’ he said softly, ‘much as I’d like to take you right here and now, I fear I must resist the temptation, for I really do have to leave in a minute or so.’ He hesitated. ‘Thea, you don’t have to stay here, you could come with me.’
She stared at him, caught completely off guard. ‘Are you moonstruck? Go with you and have the world – and Rowe – know the truth about us?’
‘Yes. Thea, I want you to be my wife.’
She was at a Ioss for words, for she’d just been enjoying the illicit excitement of an affair with someone whose lovemaking turned her whole being to fire. She’d always known that he loved her, but although she was infatuated with him, she didn’t feel any deep and lasting love for him, and leaving Rowe on his account had never figured in her plans. Deserting her husband for Kit, of all men, would mean certain ruin, for Rowe would move heaven and earth to destroy her reputation. Her character would be tainted forever, because Rowe wouldn’t rest in his vendetta against her. She shrank from such notoriety and didn’t intend to risk it, not even for a lover like this and not even for the prospect of becoming the Countess of Redway.
She lowered her eyes. ‘Kit, can’t things remain as they are?’
One of the crew was at the hatch. ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but the tide’s up.’
‘Very well.’ Kit continued to look at her. ‘No, Thea, things can’t remain as they are.’
‘But there’s no need to change. …’
‘I’m afraid there is. It’s no longer enough that you’re my mistress; my love demands more, and so does my honor.’ His eyes were incredibly blue and piercing as she looked unwillingly into them again. ‘Thea, you could leave him if you really wanted to.’’
She didn’t reply.
Slowly he released her. ‘I don’t think there’s anything more to be said; your decision is only too clear.’
She stared at him then. ‘What are you saying?’
‘That it’s over.’
‘You can’t possibly mean that! Kit, it’s nonsense, there’s no need to end anything!’
‘There’s every need. I may not like Rowe, but I like even less the way I’ve been making a cuckold of him. There’s little honor in bedding another man’s wife, and I’ve been guilty of doing just that because I love you so very much.’ His eyes were cool. ‘Now it seems that that love has been a little one-sided all along, for if you felt the way I do, you wouldn’t hesitate.’
She still couldn’t believe the sudden turn things had taken. ‘Kit, you’re being very unreasonable.’
‘Maybe I am, but I’ve realized that I can’t go on as before, it’s just not enough. I’m in love with you, Thea, I’m not just indulging in an affair to amuse my idle hours.’
‘I-I love you too …’ she began, thinking to somehow regain control of the situation. She put a hesitant, trembling hand out, summoning tears into her magnificent eyes. ‘Oh, Kit. …’
‘If you love me, leave him and come with me now.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You mean, you won’t.’
She raised her chin defiantly then. ‘All right, I won’t. I see no reason to suddenly change things.’
‘And I see every reason.’ He went to take down his wet cloak, swinging it around his shoulders. Outside, another roll of thunder rumbled over the sky, and on deck the crew were waiting for him. He snatched up his hat and gloves, putting both on and then looking at her. ‘I think it’s time to return you to your carriage.’
‘Kit, when will you return?’
‘Of what possible interest can that be to you? Our affair is at an end, and when next we meet, it will be as acquaintances, and nothing more.’
She stared at him as he went to the hatch and opened it. Cool, damp air blustered into the cabin, and thunder echoed through the darkness, rolling slowly away beyond the noise of the rain. He turned, holding a hand out to assist her onto the deck.
Slowly she took it. Anger swept willfully over her. How dared he treat her like this! How dared he cast her off simply because she wouldn’t come at his whim!
She said nothing as he helped her from the Spindrift and across the rainswept quay to the waiting carriage. She’d intended to give him a haughty look before driving off, but he’d already slammed the door and instructed the postilion to drive on. She sat numbly back against the rich upholstery, gazing out at the lantern swinging on the corner of the warehouse.
He remained on the quay, watching until the landau had turned the corner and passed out of sight.
A crewman was waiting anxiously. ‘We should be leaving, my lord.’
Kit turned and strode back on board, his wet cloak flapping around him as the wind picked up still more.
A few minutes later, the Spindrift slipped out of the shelter of Cowes harbor into the stormblown waters of the Solent. Behind, the lights of Cowes were invisible in the gloom, and the cutter’s sails strained as the full force of the weather caught them.
The rain lashed Kit’s face as he stared through the storm toward the mainland. What sort of madness was this? He was risking his own life for the somewhat dubious honor of watching Tom Cherington almost certainly forfeiting his.
5
The storm had gone by the next morning, and England awoke to brilliant August sunshine. At Lawrence Park, the grounds seemed to have been refreshed by the overnight rain, and the flower beds in the parterre were particularly bright and colorful. The fountains splashed like diamonds and on the croquet lawn the white peacocks moved like delicate living fans, their shrill calls carrying clearly over the park and nearby meadows. On the horizon the outline of London shimmered in a heat haze, while closer the spires and rooftops of Brentford seemed very still and clear. At the top of the river steps, surrounded by flowering shrubs, stood a small summerhouse; in the past it had been used by elegant parties taking wine and wafers while watching the river.
As Louisa rose from her bed, she looked from her top floor window and decided that on such a beautiful morning, poor Emma’s extra lessons should at least take place in pleasant surroundings, and what could be more pleasant than the summerhouse?
She and Emma breakfasted alone in the schoolroom, as they always did because the new Lady Lawrence disapproved of children at the breakfast table – or at any other table, come to that. Afterward they dressed to go outside. Emma put on a neat white lawn dress with a wide blue sash, and frilly pantalettes that protruded beneath its dainty hem. She had red morocco shoes, and wore her brown hair in ringlets beneath a little straw bonnet tied on with blue ribbons. Louisa wore one of her three day dresses, the peach seersucker with small puffed sleeves and a very high waistline gathered in by a ribbon of matching silk. Her dark-red hair was worn up beneath a wide-brimmed gypsy hat, and there was a light white shawl resting over her arms. After they’d selected the various textbooks they’d need for the lessons, they proceeded down through the house to the entrance hall, with Louisa exhorting Emma to walk, not canter like a small pony on the stairs.
Sir Ashley and Lady Lawrence were emerging from the breakfast room. He was a gray-haired, kindly faced gentleman, thin and frail-looking. He had on a long green paisley dressing gown, and there was a tassel
ed cap on his head. His hand rested fondly over his young wife’s as she walked at his side. He doted on her, and had yet to see her in her true colors.
Anne, Lady Lawrence, had a doll-like face and raven hair, and her lips were sweetly shaped. She looked angelic in her fine pale-pink jaconet gown by Madame Coty, London’s foremost couturière, but there was a steely glint in her green eyes as she perceived Emma and the hated governess coming down toward the entrance hall. Her humor was already poor this morning, for she’d guessed why Geoffrey had left the reception at Devonshire House the night before, and over the breakfast table she’d been endeavoring, without success, to persuade Ashley that his brat of a daughter really would benefit from a sojourn at Miss Ryden’s School for the Daughters of Gentlefolk in Kensington.
Emma was delighted to see her father, whom she adored, and she ran impulsively toward him. ‘Good morning, Papa,’ she cried, flinging her arms about him and hugging him in a most undisciplined way.
He didn’t seem to mind, smiling and patting her head fondly. ‘Good morning, m’dear.’
Emma then looked at her stepmother, and her face became a little surly, although she executed an accomplished enough curtsy. ‘Good morning, Stepmama.’
Anne’s eyes flickered coldly and she gave a brief inclination of her head. ‘Good morning, Emma. Would it be too much to ask that you conduct yourself with a little decorum? This is a house, not a barnyard.’
Emma’s lips were pressed together sulkily, and she said nothing.
Anne’s glance moved on to Louisa. ‘Am I to understand from your clothes that you intend to go outside, Miss Cherington?’
‘Yes, Lady Lawrence.’
‘I understood that mornings were to be set aside solely for lessons. I also seem to remember ordering that she had to do extra lessons today.’
‘You did, my lady, and she will do them; it’s just that I thought it would be pleasant for her to do her work in the summerhouse on such a lovely morning.’