Thea shrugged. "I find that London has begun to pall for me. I shall look forward to being in the country once more."
Lisbeth gave a vague reply, her restless gaze suddenly stopping. "Oh, my," she purred, "I wonder who that devilishly handsome gentleman is? I don't recall seeing him before."
Thea glanced in the direction of Lisbeth's gaze, her heart leaping as she caught sight of Patrick Blackburne. His mother, Lady Caldecott, was at his side, and it was obvious that they were heading toward her and Lisbeth.
Lady Caldecott, looking none too pleased after greeting both women, said stiffly, "May I present my son, Patrick Blackburne, to you. He is visiting from America."
Introductions were made, and Thea admired Patrick's adroitness in choosing such a very public arena for their supposed first meeting. She also could not help admitting that he looked very handsome in evening dress. His coat was of a rich burgundy silk, his face dark and riveting above his dazzling white, discreetly tied cravat. His breeches were of cream silk and fit his long legs admirably. But then he had, Thea admitted reluctantly, admirable thighs and calves.
Lisbeth certainly thought so, the gaze she fixed on him almost laughable in its blatant appraisal. She all but undressed him with her green eyes, and Thea was surprised at the jolt of jealousy that flashed through her.
Uncomfortable with her thoughts, Thea put on a smile, and asked brightly, "And how are you enjoying your visit to England so far, Mr. Blackburne?"
A mocking gleam in his gray eyes, Patrick replied gravely, "It has had its, ah, interesting moments—not at all what I expected."
"And what," fairly crooned Lisbeth, "did you expect?"
Patrick glanced at her, amusement quirking his lips. "Certainly not what I have found." His gaze slid back to Thea's face, and he said softly, "Definitely not what I expected."
Lady Caldecott almost snorted, but spying an acquaintance, she said, "If you will excuse me, I see Lady Blanchard and wish to speak with her for a few minutes."
Patrick was hardly aware of his mother's departure, his gray eyes taking in with pleasure the picture that Thea presented. Last night he had thought her attractive, but tonight... Tonight she was dazzling in her yellow-silk gown, and he was conscious suddenly of a stirring of something more than passing interest.
Lisbeth looked from one face to the other and grinned to herself. Well, well. Who would have thought it? She didn't know precisely what was going on, but it was obvious, to her at least, that there was something at work between Thea and the intriguing Mr. Blackburne. Any thoughts she might have had for the handsome American promptly vanished. Lisbeth did not believe in poaching, and it was clear, for the first time in her memory, that Thea regarded the gentleman with something more than her usual contempt.
Deciding that she was de trop, she murmured a polite good-bye and glided away. Neither Thea nor Patrick seemed to be aware that she had departed.
His gaze fixed on Thea's face, Patrick said, "You look very beautiful tonight." He hesitated before asking, "You have heard nothing? By your presence here tonight, I presume that nothing has been discovered."
He urged her toward the edge of the room, and a second later, they stepped out onto the terrace. It was cooler out here, the black sky brilliant with silvery stars. A few couples could be seen wandering down the lanternlit walkways of the small London garden. The terrace was private and nearly deserted except for two gentlemen smoking cigars at the far side.
"You presume correctly," Thea said in a low voice, vividly conscious of Patrick's warm skin beneath her hand, which lay on his arm as he walked by her side. "It is possible that my sister has been notified and has chosen not to tell me, but I cannot believe that she would not come to me in the face of such a tragedy."
"Since I don't know the young lady, I cannot comment." He sighed. "Until his death is made public we can do little but wait."
Thea's face turned up to his. "Do you think that once his death is known that we will learn something new?"
They stopped strolling and were standing in the deep shadows at the far side of the terrace. The cigar-smoking gentlemen had returned inside; there was no one else in sight.
Becoming aware of how isolated they were, though the laughter and sounds of the ball could be heard coming through the thrown-wide French doors that led to the terrace, Thea was suddenly nervous. The fact that she found Patrick attractive made the situation all the more unnerving.
Some of her nervousness must have communicated itself to Patrick. A hint of amusement in his voice, he said, "I promise that I shall not pounce upon you. If it is your reputation you are worried about, I assure you that it is perfectly permissible for us to converse quietly here together—at least for a few minutes."
In the shadows, Thea flushed. "Perhaps with another woman such would be the case, but you have forgotten that I am the 'notorious' Thea Garrett." She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. "You asked your mother to introduce us, didn't you? She didn't want to, did she?"
Patrick grinned, his white teeth flashing in the darkness. "No, she was not happy about my request. But then, she has just about given up the notion of ever seeing me married, and the fact that I expressed an interest in any young woman won her over."
Thea flushed again. Stiffly, she asked, "And did you tell her that you were 'interested' in me?"
"Not exactly. I merely mentioned that I wished to know who the ravishing creature in the yellow gown was. The rest was simple."
Even knowing that he had had to give his mother some reason for their introduction, Thea felt a wash of pleasure at his words. Did he think she was ravishing? Telling herself not to be a goose, she wrenched her thoughts away from such a foolish path.
Patrick startled her by lifting her chin with a firm hand. Staring down into her wary features, he said softly, "And you are, you know. Ravishing. In fact, too ravishing for your own good."
She looked up at him, her breathing constricted. "Wh-what do you mean?" she managed, her eyes very wide and wondering.
His head dipped. Against her trembling lips, he muttered, "Why, only that any man of good red blood could not resist you."
He kissed her. His mouth was warm and soft against hers, the softness surprising her, making her want to melt into that very softness. Gently that mocking mouth teased hers, arousing emotions and sensations she barely remembered. Lost in the awakening wonder of the moment, conscious only of the seductive pressure of his lips, she was hardly aware of his arms closing around her. It wasn't until she felt herself swept next to his muscled length that she realized several disturbing things at once. First of all, that he had been kissing her a very long time; secondly, that she was enjoying it far too much; and thirdly, that if the rather large bulge that jutted so stiffly near her thighs was anything to go by, Mr. Blackburne was unmistakably and thoroughly aroused.
Most astonishing of all, she was also aroused, aware of her body in a way that she hadn't been in a very long time—if ever.
Galvanized by the knowledge of where such dalliance could lead, Thea wrenched herself away from him. Humiliated by her own weakness, angry with herself, she snapped, "I do not appreciate your attempt to seduce me. Did Nigel put you up to it? Was it a wager between you?"
His own breathing rather ragged, his lower body aching in a way he had not thought possible, Patrick fought to regain his senses. Furious with himself for his loss of control, stung by her words, Patrick snarled, "Neither Nigel nor a bloody wager had anything to do with what just happened between us—and I resent your accusation that I would stoop so low."
A cynical smile curved her mouth. "Well, you wouldn't be the first gentleman who thought to try his hand at seducing me—or had a wager on the outcome."
Innocent of such reprehensible action for probably the first time in his life, Patrick was outraged. "I have not," he said stiffly, "made wagers about young ladies since my callow youth. And I have learned and lived to regret that I ever did."
"Oh, really?"
&nbs
p; Memories of certain rather disgraceful wagers he had made in the past flashed through his mind, including the most recent one involving an introduction to Thea herself.
He grimaced. He couldn't even swear that he had never made a wager concerning her.
Suppressing a curse, he muttered, "A wager had nothing to do with what just happened between us. I warned you that you were too ravishing for your own good."
"Oh, it was my fault?" Thea asked incredulously.
"No, dash it, it wasn't! I merely meant that I found you much too appealing to resist." He threw her a look of resentment. "It will not," he said grimly, "happen again."
"One hopes not—not if we are to work together," Thea said serenely. His admission that he found her appealing soothed her ruffled feathers—at least it did until it occurred to her that he could simply be plying her with empty compliments. She'd heard enough of them whispered in her ear by unscrupulous gentlemen bent on seduction these past few years to last her a lifetime. Yet, despite all the reasons why she shouldn't believe that he was sincere, she wanted to believe that he had spoken the truth—a desire that she had not experienced so far. Which made him, she realized unhappily, very dangerous for her peace of mind.
Deciding to beat a retreat, Thea turned and was walking toward the opened doorway when a woman's laugh came wafting out into the darkness. She knew that laugh, and she stopped as if she had been turned to stone.
Edwina? But it couldn't be! Not even Edwina would be brash enough to attend a ball on the very day she learned of her husband's death!
Quickening her stride, she hurried inside, stopping in stunned incredulity when she spied the laughing lady. It was Edwina, looking absolutely delectable in a stunning gown of gossamer silk the exact sky-blue shade of her eyes. Her guinea gold hair was fashionably arranged in delicate little curls that framed her lovely features. Laughing and coyly hiding behind her painted silk fan, she was enchanting.
It was clear from the expression on the face of the young man that was by Edwina's side that she had certainly enchanted him. Watching as Edwina expertly plied her fan and fluttered her lashes at the gentleman, Thea's lips thinned. The little fool! What game did she think she was playing? Did she want to be totally ostracized by the ton?
Thea started forward, intending to hustle Edwina away from the ball in the shortest possible time, when she felt a steely grip on her arm.
"Don't," Patrick said.
"What do you mean?" Thea hissed. "It is Edwina. Hirst's wife—widow. She should not be here tonight."
He quirked a brow. "Are you positive that she knows of her husband's death? It is possible that his body has not been discovered yet—have you considered that? And if his body has not yet been discovered, how are you going to explain your knowledge of his demise, hmm?"
Thea froze. She hadn't considered that possibility, and it made far more sense than for Edwina to fly in the face of society and blithely attend a ball with her husband newly dead. Another dreadful thought crossed her mind.
Looking at Patrick, she asked uneasily. "Do you think that he is still just lying there? That no one but we know that he is dead?"
"Someone else does—the murderer, or have you forgotten that?"
Taking a deep breath, Thea muttered, "How could I? You certainly take great delight in reminding me of that unpleasant fact."
Patrick smiled winningly down at her. "No, my dear, I take great delight in you—not your brother-in-law."
Flustered, Thea glanced away, her eyes unexpectedly meeting Edwina's. For a nerve-wracking moment, she thought Edwina would snub her, but with a toss of her curls, Edwina walked up to her.
The sky-blue eyes full of resentment, Edwina said, "Good evening, sister dear. Are you enjoying the ball?"
Thea mumbled a reply, all the things she wanted to say to Edwina turning into a mass of jumbled, incoherent thoughts in her brain. Fortunately, there were introductions to be made and by the time everyone knew each other's names, Thea's wits were back in hand. At least she hoped they were. Each time she looked at Edwina she could not help thinking of Alfred's body lying on the floor of the house on Curzon Street. It was all she could do not to blurt out that horrible news.
The gentleman hovering at Edwina's side was Lord Pennington, a shy young man who had inherited his father's title eighteen months previously. Thea had seen him on the London scene the past few months, but while he had been pointed out to her, she had never been introduced to him. Since his visit to London this past spring, he had been considered a matrimonial prize of the highest order. He was wealthy, good-looking, very nice mannered, well connected and with a charming shyness that instantly endeared him to every matchmaking mama's heart; it was no wonder that his obvious fascination with Edwina Hirst was causing all manner of dark looks to be sent their way.
Unhappily aware of those looks and aware, too, of how easily Edwina's reputation could be linked to hers, Thea's one thought was to escape—and if possible take her sister with her. But when she made some comment on the fact that it was late and that she was thinking of leaving and invited Edwina to join her, she was balked.
"Oh, no," cried Edwina prettily. "It is too early to leave now." She fluttered her eyes at Lord Pennington, who blushed. "I have promised Lord Pennington the next country dance. You would not have me treat him rudely, now would you?"
Pennington stammered that he would not expect his wishes to be held above those of her sister's, but Edwina tapped him with her fan, and murmured, "Silly boy. As if I would deny myself the enjoyment of dancing with you to listen to my stuffy sister lecture me." She looked at Thea. "For that is what you will do, won't you?"
It was Thea's turn to stammer, and she was saved from sounding like a fool by Patrick's intervention. Having taken an accurate reading of the delectable Mrs. Hirst and having decided that it was Thea that needed protection and not the lovely little minx with the blue eyes, he drawled, "I don't believe that I have had the pleasure of meeting your husband, Mrs. Hirst. Is he here tonight?"
Thea's mouth nearly flew open, but by the greatest exertion of control, she managed to keep it shut. She gazed at Patrick's bland features, undecided whether to be shocked or pleased.
"No, Alfred is not here tonight. In fact, he is not even in the city." She smiled at Lord Pennington. "Actually, I don't expect him back for several days. He told me yesterday morning that he would be away for a few weeks." Demurely, she added, "I just don't know how I am to get about London without a masculine escort. I really don't like to go out, especially at night, without a gentleman at my side. So many awful things can happen to a poor woman alone."
Lord Pennington nearly fell over himself as he stammered. "B-b-be honored t-t-to escort you until your h-h-husband returns."
"Oh, would you?" Edwina said. "It is so very kind of you to offer." Glancing at Thea, she said, "You see, I even have a proper gentleman to squire me about. There is no reason for you to worry about me."
Thea was aware of an unsisterly urge to smack Edwina's face, but she mastered it. Honing in on the only part of the conversation that interested her, she asked, "Did Hirst say where he was going?"
Edwina looked thoughtful. "Devonshire? Wiltshire? Or was it Leicestershire? Do you know, I can't remember?" Her brow furrowed. "Now let me think. Ah, I have it, before he left yesterday, just in case I needed to reach him, he wrote a note for me with his destination and the name of the people he would be staying with. Shall I find it and let you know where he was going?"
Thea would have very much liked to say yes, but caution held her tongue. The last thing she wanted was for Edwina to start wondering why she was curious about her husband's destination—especially since she and Hirst were on unfriendly terms.
"No, no, that won't be necessary," Thea said weakly.
Since there was nothing else to be gained from further conversation, and it was obvious that Edwina wished her in Coventry, Thea and Patrick wandered off in another direction. The calculating look in Edwina's eyes when she ha
d gazed at Patrick troubled her. Edwina was a married woman.
It was bad enough, Thea thought, that Edwina was flirting so shamelessly with poor Lord Pennington, but surely she wasn't considering casting her net for someone like Blackburne?
"Well, that answered one question, didn't it?" Patrick said as he walked at her side.
Thea sighed. "Indeed it did. It makes me feel queasy to think that while his wife is here laughing and enjoying herself, confident that her husband has gone somewhere in the country, he is actually lying dead in an empty house just a few streets away."
"It is strange that his body has not yet been discovered," Patrick murmured as he deftly guided Thea toward the edge of the crowd and a modicum of privacy. "I vaguely remember the house agent mentioning that they have someone look in at the place every day to make certain that nothing is amiss—rats, broken windows, house thieves, and the like. And while it is possible that a day is skipped now and then..." He looked thoughtful. "I wonder if..."
When he said nothing more, Thea looked sharply at him. "You wonder what?"
"I wonder if he is still lying there."
Thea's eyes widened. Hardly aware of the chatter and press of people around them, she turned to him, and said urgently, "He must be! He couldn't just get up and walk away."
"No, but someone could have moved his body."
"Merciful heavens, why?"
Patrick's eyes met hers. "To keep his death a secret."
Thea opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. A determined expression on her face, she plunged into the crowd.
"Where are you going?" Patrick demanded as he kept pace with her.
"I'm going to find my cousin Miss Bradford, then she and I are going to take our leave from Lord and Lady Hilliard and go home." She threw him a challenging look. "Then I am going to the house on Curzon Street to see for myself precisely what is going on."
Chapter 6
Oblivious to their surroundings, Patrick caught her upper arm in an inescapable grip. "Are you mad?" he demanded.
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