The Bedding Proposal

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Thalia stared down at the plates and bowls, and at the steak in particular. Fresh meat was an expensive indulgence and one she rarely allowed herself these days. Her cook’s actions made no sense.

  “A big delivery arrived this morning,” Parker volunteered as if privy to Thalia’s thoughts. “The boy said it was all paid for and to enjoy. Mrs. Grove has been grinning and humming ever since she unpacked the hamper. There was a second basket that came just for the staff. It had a huge ham inside, fresh chickens and all sorts of dried fruits and nuts. Cook says she’s going to bake us all some tarts for dinner. If it’s all right with you, of course, milady.”

  “Of course,” she said automatically.

  Thalia frowned, her thoughts turning over quickly. An extravagant delivery that was already paid for? She didn’t need to think long to know who’d sent it.

  Leo.

  Who else?

  She remembered him remarking only the other evening about the small portions of meat served at dinner. While it was true that the end-of-the-month larder had been running lean on rations, Leo should not have sent her hampers of expensive victuals. She would speak to him about it as soon as she had the opportunity, and ask him not to do so again in future.

  As for the hampers themselves, it seemed wrong to return the one he had sent for the servants. The staff were all clearly thrilled with the gift and she couldn’t see disappointing them by insisting the items be returned. The one for her was another matter and she knew she ought to send word down to the kitchen to pack it up and have it delivered to Cavendish Square.

  She gazed again at all the delicious food laid out before her. It seemed churlish and wasteful not to eat it, seeing it had already been prepared. It would just go in the slop bucket if she had it taken back to the kitchen.

  And for the rest?

  She would keep the hamper, she decided, but give orders to Mrs. Grove that its contents be served only on occasions when Lord Leo was present for a meal. Otherwise she would forgo the offerings.

  Picking up her fork and knife, she cut a slice of steak and put it in her mouth. Inwardly, she sighed with delight; it was so tender and succulent. After pausing to pour herself a cup of steaming tea, she set to eating her breakfast in earnest.

  She had made excellent inroads into the hearty meal when her lady’s maid walked into the sitting room again. This time she was carrying several boxes, two large and one small.

  Thalia laid her silverware aside, then patted her lips with her napkin. “What are those?”

  “Another delivery. They only just arrived for you, milady. Would you like me to open them?”

  She nodded, then stood, saying nothing as her maid moved to the couch and set down the parcels. She watched as Parker untied the ribbon and lifted off the top of the first box.

  Inside was an exquisite evening gown; she didn’t need to read the card signed with a boldly inscribed L to know who had sent it.

  Parker held up the garment so that Thalia could take in the full effect of the gorgeous, high-waisted gown of deep rose satin. It had long cap sleeves with sheer white oversleeves, and flounces along the hem trimmed with a row of tiny white rosebuds. The gown looked like something straight out of the latest fashion magazine. She hadn’t been near something so new and pretty in over half a decade.

  She barely had time to appreciate the beauty of the first garment before Parker laid it carefully aside and opened the second box to reveal another sartorial creation. It was an afternoon dress of blue-green crepe with long, lace-edged sleeves and a deep border of delicate embroidered scallops along the hem.

  “Oh, and look,” her maid declared as she reached yet again into the box, “there is a matching spencer and gloves. And the most adorable wide-brim bonnet with peacock feathers, of all things. Won’t you look a picture in this outfit, milady?”

  Wouldn’t I, just? Thalia thought with sudden longing. She could imagine Leo’s reaction to her in the ensemble. How his brilliant eyes would shine with approval and desire. How pleased he would be to see her wearing the clothes he had bought especially for her.

  Clothes he had bought . . .

  Parker folded the gown over her arm. “I’ll just nip out and give this a press while you finish the last of your meal. I won’t be long.”

  “No,” Thalia said firmly. “Please pack everything back into the boxes and get one of my usual dresses out of the wardrobe. The navy merino, I believe.”

  “But, milady—”

  “And I am finished with breakfast. Please convey my thanks to Mrs. Grove for an excellent repast.”

  The glow of excitement disappeared from Parker’s face and she looked for a moment as if she might argue. Instead she nodded and laid the lovely dress aside, then disappeared into the bedroom.

  Thalia’s shoulders drooped as soon as she was alone, her gaze returning to the gowns. She moved close and reached out, running her fingertips over a piece of lace edging that she knew was Honiton made.

  So soft. So delicate. So pretty.

  And so expensive.

  Too expensive for her.

  With a sigh, she turned away and went to get dressed.

  * * *

  She entered her study almost an hour later, Hera running past her to leap up onto the desk. With rain drizzling outside, the little cat had no interest in venturing beyond the doors today.

  She didn’t either, come to that.

  It was much too cold and dreary to do anything but curl up in her warmest shawl with a cup of hot tea while she saw to the accounts.

  Only the room wasn’t cold today.

  Quite the opposite—it felt warm, she realized as her gaze went to the healthy blaze burning in the fireplace grate. There was a fresh supply of logs laid into the copper bin as well.

  She frowned.

  The staff well knew that the fireplaces in the house weren’t to be lit until nightfall. She would have to have a talk with Fletcher about the situation, no matter how pleasant the study was at the moment.

  Hera was clearly luxuriating as well, stretched out with pure feline contentment across her books and papers. Thalia smiled, wondering how she would have the heart to move her; she looked so cute and happy.

  She was about to try nonetheless, knowing she’d never accomplish anything otherwise, when she heard a familiar tread at the door.

  “Leo,” she said, meeting his gaze across the room.

  He strode toward her. “Fletcher said you were in here. I told him there was no need to announce me. Seems rather pointless these days, do you not agree?”

  Without waiting for her answer, he bent and pressed his lips to hers.

  Tingles chased through her, along with a warmth that drove away any last, lingering traces of cold. Her eyes closed as she kissed him back.

  “Happy birthday,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly across hers once more.

  Her eyes opened on a jolt of surprise. “How do you know it’s my birthday?”

  Grinning, he straightened. “Let’s just say a little birdie told me.”

  “Might that bird have a name?” She frowned, puzzling over the mystery. Her brow suddenly cleared. “Tilly.”

  “She was the only one I could think to ask and she proved quite helpful.”

  “I’m sure.” Thalia ran a hand over his lapel. “She pried your name out of me and is extremely grateful for your assistance in putting Lord Cathcart in touch with your financial wizard, Pendragon. The debt on Lambton has been restructured and they are quite saved. I am grateful as well. Thank you for rescuing my friend.”

  He shrugged. “It was no trouble. Though I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to further demonstrate your gratitude,” he added, tapping a finger against his cheek.

  Leaning up on her toes, she kissed him there, then again on his lips. “Will that do?” she asked a breathless minute later.

  “For now. By the way, I sent you a couple of things. Did they arrive?”

  She glanced briefly away. “If you mean the food an
d the clothes, then yes, they did.”

  With her hands in his, he took a step back and skimmed his gaze over her. “Then why are you wearing one of your old dresses? I had hoped to see you in your new afternoon gown.”

  “It is still in the box.”

  “Then go upstairs and change. I’ll wait. I want to see you in it.”

  “No, I can’t.” She paused, then sighed. “I appreciate the thought. It was very kind of you. But, Leo, you must know that I cannot accept those gowns. I wouldn’t have accepted the food hampers either, but Mrs. Grove had other ideas, so it’s a bit late for those.”

  “Good for Mrs. Grove. So why can you not accept the gowns? Are they not to your liking?”

  “Of course they are,” she said, her chest aching at the disappointment on his face. “The gowns are beautiful. No one could think otherwise. Even so, I must refuse them.” She tried to pull her hands from his.

  He wouldn’t let go. “I do not see why,” he said, his voice hard.

  “Surely you must. Do I have to say it out loud?”

  She saw his jaw tighten. “You do not want my gifts, so yes, I rather think you do.”

  “I am your lover, not your mistress. Taking those clothes, even taking the hampers of food you sent, they turn our affair into something tawdry. They turn me into a kept woman.” She tugged her hands harder this time, setting herself free. “And I will not be a . . . a . . .”

  “A what?” he demanded.

  “You know what.” She hugged her arms around her waist. “A whore,” she whispered.

  “Thalia!” he said, his outrage clear. Catching her hands again, he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t ever let me hear you say something like that again. You are not a . . . you are not that and you know it. I won’t even have you thinking such a thing.”

  “Everyone else thinks it.”

  “I thought you didn’t care what everyone else thinks. They see the lies they want to see, whatever the truth may be. You know that, better than anyone.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “The gowns and other things are birthday gifts, Thalia. Am I not allowed to get you anything, not even for your special day?”

  “I suppose. But it is too much, far too extravagant—”

  “Food and firewood and a couple of gowns are too extravagant, are they? I am a rich man. I can afford to be extravagant when I choose.”

  “Firewood?” She glanced toward the hearth and the blaze burning cheerfully in the grate. “So that’s the reason. . . .” Her brows creased. “You should not have sent that either.”

  He smoothed a hand over her back. “Of course I should. We haven’t discussed it before, but I can see that you are sometimes forced to economize. The fires aren’t lit half the time and you don’t always serve the best cuts of meat at table. And your wardrobe. Pray tell me when you last had a new gown.”

  She stiffened. “I have no need of new gowns, since I rarely entertain. I manage quite well on the income I receive and have done so very capably for years.”

  “I know that and I have great admiration for your determination and resolve. But you do without the luxuries. If I want to make your life a little easier, then where is the harm?”

  “You know the harm.”

  “That is your pride talking.”

  “Some days, it is the only thing I have.”

  He studied her at length, then sighed. “They are just a few gifts for your birthday, Thalia. Can you not accept them in the spirit in which they are meant? Can you not let yourself enjoy a little?”

  Her brows furrowed. “The food and firewood, perhaps, since it benefits the staff as well as me. But the dresses—”

  “Will look lovely on you. All you need to do is try them on to see.”

  “Leo.”

  “Please.” He kissed her, his touch softening her resistance. “What if I promise not to give you anything else?”

  “Just today?”

  “Exactly. You will agree to graciously accept the birthday presents I’ve gotten you and I, in turn, promise not to give you anything else. At least not until Christmas. You cannot deny me Christmas.”

  Christmas was a little less than two months away. Their affair might well be over by then. So really, would it be so terrible to say yes?

  A silence fell between; then she relented. “All right. I shall accept my birthday presents—”

  “And Christmas.”

  “And Christmas. But nothing else. Satisfied?”

  A slow smile curved his mouth. “Well enough.” He kissed her again.

  “Shall I change into my new dress?” she asked, suddenly excited.

  “Yes. But before you do, there are a couple more gifts.”

  “What? But you said—”

  “That I am limited to gifts I give you today.”

  “Maybe I’ll take back my promise.”

  “Can’t.” He grinned. “Once a promise is made, it cannot be rescinded.”

  She drew a breath. “Fine. But should you suddenly remember anything more, I shall refuse it.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.” She stepped out of his hold.

  Crossing to a nearby table, he picked up a small box she hadn’t noticed earlier, and held it out. She took it, admiring the pretty blue ribbon for a moment before she reached to untie it.

  Her breath caught when she saw what lay within, hands shaking slightly as she lifted it carefully from its nest of satin and feathers.

  The Meissen box. Her Meissen box with the pair of frolicking kittens, the one her father had given her so many years ago.

  She’d put the beautiful porcelain piece out of her mind, but obviously Leo hadn’t forgotten. Now here it was again.

  “Oh, Leo,” she whispered.

  “I’ve been waiting for the right time to give it to you again,” he said. “You seemed so taken with it at the auction. You do still like it, yes?”

  She blinked back moisture in her eyes and nodded. “You cannot know how much. It used to be mine.”

  His brows arched. “What?”

  “My father gave it to me when I was a girl and Gordon . . .”

  “Kept it and sold it when you got divorced,” Leo finished. “That man is such a bastard.”

  “Shh, don’t ruin the moment. Forget I mentioned him, please. This is . . . wonderful. I couldn’t ask for a better birthday present.” She cradled the porcelain trinket box in her hand.

  “So you’re not going to tell me to take it back?”

  She shook her head. “It nearly killed me to refuse it the first time. I haven’t the strength to do so again.”

  He slid an arm around her waist. “Nor should you. It belonged to you before and it is yours again, forever.”

  “Thank you.” Threading her fingers into his hair, she urged his head down so she could kiss him.

  Leo eagerly complied.

  She blinked, a little dizzy by the time he finally let her come back up for air. Taking the trinket box in hand, he placed it back into its protective packaging and set it aside.

  “Ready for your last gift?” he asked.

  “That’s right, I had forgotten there is more. So? What is this final gift?”

  “I think ‘Where is the gift?’ makes a better question. Do you have an umbrella?”

  “Yes,” she said, confused by the sudden change of subject. “Why?”

  “Because we are going to the stables.”

  Chapter 25

  Leo stood beside Thalia inside the stables, a light, steady rain pouring outside. He watched, studying her face as the groom led her present forward.

  “The roan filly!” She clasped her hands to her chest, an expression of wonder spreading across her features. “Oh, she’s so beautiful, just as I remember.”

  “Happy birthday, Thalia.”

  But just as quickly as it had come, her pleasure faded. “Leo, thank you, but no. Take her back.”

  “Remember your promise.”

  “I didn’t think
you meant to give me a horse. She’s far too dear, and I—” She drew him away, lowering her voice so the servant couldn’t overhear. “I cannot afford her. The carriage horse I keep is an indulgence already. A riding horse, especially one as exceptional as this, it is beyond my means. Please, do not tempt me.”

  “There is no temptation. I shall bear all the cost of her upkeep.”

  Her mouth firmed. “No. Now have your man return her to the mews at Cavendish Square.”

  She is so stubborn, he thought. But I am more stubborn.

  If Thalia would not accept the horse outright, then he would find a less straightforward way to convince her.

  “You mistake the matter,” he explained, as if that had been his plan all along. “I am not giving her to you permanently. Think of her as a loan.”

  “What?”

  “My little sister, Esme, will be making her debut this spring and she’ll need a good horse for Town. I thought you could ride Athena for the time being. Keep her trained and well exercised.”

  “A groom could do those things.”

  “Yes, but I want Athena accustomed to a sidesaddle and the feel of a woman’s lighter weight and touch. One of my men cannot do that.”

  Thalia’s pretty brows drew close as she considered his words. “I suppose not. Even so—”

  “You would be doing a favor, not only for me, but for my sister. Come spring, I am sure Esme will have nothing but praise for your excellent care and training of her new mount. You are an exceptional rider and can make sure the mare is properly gentled. Please, Thalia. Do not make me disappoint my sister.”

  She frowned harder, then turned her gaze on the mare again. Her features softened, longing plain in her luminous brown eyes.

  “It will just be temporary,” she repeated. “Only until spring.”

  He smiled. “Esme will be exceedingly grateful. And do not worry—I will provide for all of Athena’s care.”

  But Thalia wasn’t paying attention any longer. Walking slowly forward, she reached out a careful hand and stroked the horse’s neck.

  Athena whickered softly, puffing out a gentle breath through her velvety nostrils.