Swear by Moonlight

by Shirlee Busbee

  There had been a time when Patrick viewed his mother as merely a cold society matron. Only recently had he begun to see the woman behind the polite facade. Because of the blackmailer, he had spent more private time in his mother's company than he had in decades. He was aware, as he had not been previously, of her warm affectionate nature, and knowing that she had once loved unwisely and impetuously, he saw her very differently. Her vulnerability to the blackmailer and her plea for help aroused all his protective instincts and brought to life a corner of his heart he thought closed to her.

  Touched by her words, Patrick kissed her scented cheek. "It must be a family failing," he said, "for I find that as the years pass, things I would have once dismissed as unimportant begin to take on paramount importance. Having your affection is one of those things." His expression soft and unguarded, he murmured, "I love you, Mama—and I shall try not to get myself injured."

  Her anxious look did not disperse, and Patrick smiled, his gaze bright with laughter. "You know me, Mama—I have fought my share of duels and taken part in more than my share of dangerous pranks and not come to harm. As you once said yourself—the Devil looks after his own. Do not worry over me."

  "Now why, do your words fill me with greatest alarm?"

  He grinned and kissed her cheek again. "Do not worry, Mama. All will be right—I swear it. Now shall we go downstairs and await your guests?"

  Resigned to a tedious evening, Patrick was delighted when he discovered that Modesty and Thea were among the guests of Lady Caldecott's very exclusive dinner party. He'd been conversing, that is, listening to the elderly Lord Markley drone on about the wild and disrespectful youth of the day, when a flash of brilliant color caught his eye.

  He gazed across the width of his mother's large drawing room, his heart leaping when he spied Thea, looking ravishing in a gown of burgundy silk, exchanging greetings with Lord and Lady Caldecott. Accompanied by an older couple whom he did not recognize, Modesty and Thea were talking to his mother and stepfather. From the smiles and animated conversation, it was obvious, even if Modesty had not already alluded to it, that his mother and Modesty were more than just social acquaintances. Lady Caldecott also greeted the tall handsome man and his plump little wife with more than just social politeness. Patrick was suddenly very curious about them.

  Leaving Lord Markley in mid-complaint, Patrick closed the distance between himself and the group near the double doors of the drawing room.

  Bowing politely, he greeted Thea and Modesty and waited for his mother to introduce the other couple.

  "Ah, you have never met Lord and Lady Garrett, have you, my dear?" Lady Caldecott murmured with a smile at her son. "Allow me to introduce you to them—they are Miss Garrett's aunt and uncle having come up from the country to London to stay for a while. They are some of my dearest friends. We have known each other for years."

  Introductions were made, Patrick sizing up Thea's uncle, recognizing immediately which side of the family Thea's dark, speaking eyes had come from. Lord Garrett had the same almost black eyes and a way of looking at one that made Patrick think of Thea.

  "It is a pleasure to meet you both," Patrick said, bowing over Lady Garrett's little hand. "I hope your visit will be most enjoyable."

  Lady Garrett's kind face blossomed with a warm smile. "Oh, so do we! It is such a pleasure finally to meet you—your mother has spoken so often of you, but we always seemed to have been in the country when you have been visiting London."

  "We have not seen each other for several months and have much to gossip about," Patrick's mother said. "While we are catching up, why don't you introduce Miss Garrett around? I do not think that she knows many of the other guests."

  Since he had already been considering ways to cut Thea out from the pack, Patrick positively beamed at her. "It will be my pleasure." And with Thea's hand resting on his arm, he whisked her away.

  The five older people spoke for several moments before Lord and Lady Garrett were hailed by an old friend and wandered off to join him.

  Freed at last to watch Thea and Patrick, Modesty and Lady Caldecott did so. Lord Caldecott watched, too, a little frown creasing his forehead.

  When neither one of the ladies seemed inclined to speak, he asked, "Er, do you think that this is wise, my dear?"

  Lady Caldecott looked pensive, her thoughts on the woman she had been decades ago, a married woman who had embarked on an adulterous affair. With her own history weighing on her conscience, how could she hold Thea's past against her? Heaven knows if the affair had come out, she would have been as ruined as Thea. Who was she to look down her nose or cast stones?

  "Wisdom has nothing to do with it. I have longed for Patrick to marry for more than a decade," Lady Caldecott said, "and Miss Garrett is not only the first woman he has ever shown any inclination to marry, she is the only one." She looked wistful. "All that really counts is Patrick's happiness, and if she makes him happy, then I shall be happy." She smiled at Modesty. "Besides, Thea is related to one of my dearest friends—how could I be against such a union? It may not be the match I might have hoped for him, but then he may not be the match her family might have wanted for her either!"

  "Well, yes, all that is very true," Lord Caldecott murmured, "but what about her past? Doesn't it trouble you?"

  Bristling in defense of Thea, Modesty snapped, "Her family and fortune are more than respectable. And as for the scandal—it was a decade ago. My poor lamb did nothing wrong—other than to believe the words of a scoundrel!" She glared at Lord Caldecott. "And you would do well to remember that your stepson is no angel!" She shot an apologetic look at Lady Caldecott. "I know that he is your son, Alice, and I would never say anything to hurt you, you know that. Half of what I know of him has come from you, and you would be the first to admit that the word 'angelic' could never be applied to him."

  "No, it could not!" Lady Caldecott agreed, amusement lurking in her fine eyes. "As his mother, I would be the first, regrettably, to admit that. He has been wild, reckless, stubborn to a fault, and high-handed. His actions have often driven me to despair, and as the years have passed the thing I despaired of most was that he would ever marry—or that if he did, it would be to someone totally unsuitable." She glanced again at the younger couple as Patrick was introducing Thea to Lord Markley. A soft smile played around her lips. "Thea will do very well for him. Very well indeed."

  * * *

  Having done his duty and introduced Thea to his mother's guests, Patrick decided he could now please himself. But before he could do as he longed, and abduct Thea out from under the noses of some of society's highest sticklers for a private moment, Thea suddenly stopped, and exclaimed, "Why, that is Uncle Hazlett! How wonderful!"

  Leaving Patrick to follow behind her, she crossed to where a compact individual in a superbly cut dark blue coat was talking with Lord Garrett. Rushing up to the gentleman, Thea gave him a swift kiss on his cheek.

  "Uncle! I did not expect to see you here tonight."

  Lord Hazlett smiled. "Why not? Lord Caldecott and I have known each other for years." His eyes twinkled. "You are not the only one, my dear, who can make a bustle in society. How have you been these past weeks?"

  Before Thea could reply, Patrick walked up and bowed politely to Lord Hazlett. "My lord. How are you this evening?"

  Patrick knew Lord Hazlett slightly, and it surprised him to learn that he was Thea's maternal uncle. But then it shouldn't have—the aristocracy for all its power was actually small when compared to England as a whole.

  Dinner was announced, and for the time being Patrick gave up any idea of a moment alone with Thea. His handsome mouth twisted. Ah well, it was probably for the best. She was keeping him at arm's length, and any move by him would probably send her bolting to Modesty's side—or one of her uncles. He sighed. He would have to move slowly. Unfortunately, patience had never been his strong suit.

  Patrick might have been in a more cheerful frame of mind if he had known how hard it was for Thea
to keep him at arm's length. Every time she glanced at him, her heart began to beat in a most unseemly fashion. He was so handsome. And charming. And tall. And exciting. And oh, just everything. Had she been an utter fool to decide not to become his mistress?

  A little frown marred her forehead. Perhaps he hadn't really wanted her for a mistress? After all, he had taken her refusal without a murmur of protest. Surely if he had wanted her, he would not have given in so easily? If he had really wanted her for his mistress, wouldn't he have tried to change her mind?

  She shot him a perplexed look and blushed charmingly when he glanced up and caught her staring at him. He smiled, such a warm, inviting smile that Thea's toes curled in delight in her satin slippers. She was definitely a fool! A fool for having denied herself the pleasure of his lovemaking.

  Patrick was thinking something similar as his gaze traveled appreciatively over her flushed features and the slim, white shoulders revealed by her gown. She was everything he wanted, and his body stirred with blunt desire. He sighed. No, patience was definitely not one of his virtues!

  The long dinner finally came to an end. There were fifty guests scattered about the length of the linen-draped table—Lady Caldecott's idea of a "small, intimate" gathering of dear friends—and Patrick wondered what she would have called a large dinner.

  Watching his mother rise from her place at the head of the table, he smothered a groan. The dinner had been tedious enough, but now the ladies would withdraw and he would be denied even the sight of Thea's enchanting face across the table from him. He would have to drink at least one glass of port with the gentlemen before escaping the dining room.

  A smile on her face, Lady Caldecott lightly tapped a spoon against her crystal glass. When the guests all looked her way, she said, "I have an announcement to make—one that makes me very happy and one that I despaired of ever being able to make."

  She smiled warmly at Patrick and an awful suspicion suddenly burst through him. He cast a swift glance at Modesty and her demure expression sent a chill along his spine. Oh, lud! They were for it now!

  "I wish at this time to announce the betrothal of my dear son, Patrick, to the charming Miss Thea Garrett. A notice has already been sent to the Times and will appear in tomorrow's newspaper." With nary a pause, she closed the trap. "The haste with which their wedding has been planned might seem unusual, but as so many of our friends and acquaintances have already left the city for the winter, there is no reason to delay. Do not forget—the demands of my son's plantation in America limit the length of his stay in England. I believe that he plans to leave for America in a few weeks—taking his bride with him. They will marry, by special license, this very Saturday." She sent a satisfied smile down the length of the table, passing quickly over Patrick's rigid features and Thea's stunned ones. "All of you are invited. Lord and Lady Garrett have already agreed to allow my husband and me to have the wedding and reception here." Lady Caldecott beamed. "Isn't it wonderful!"

  Chapter 10

  "You are the most underhanded, perfidious, wicked person I have ever known!" Thea exploded the minute she was alone with her betrothed. "How could I have trusted you? You lied to everyone—even your own mother. How could you? I thought that I had met the blackest-hearted beast in nature when Hawley Randall betrayed me, but you—!" Words failed her, and she shut her mouth with an audible snap that made Patrick wince.

  In the shadowy darkness of the coach taking them to Thea's London residence, Patrick could not see Thea's features clearly, but he had no doubt of her feelings. He grimaced. He didn't blame her for feeling as she did either. His mother and Modesty had neatly boxed them in, and while he knew that he was innocent of all the crimes his seething bride-to-be laid at his feet, it was unlikely that she would believe his protestations to the contrary.

  At least she had waited until they were alone to vent her rage, Patrick thought, and for that he was thankful. And she had not publicly contradicted his mother's announcement—for which he was even more grateful. He wanted to marry Thea. He intended to marry Thea. And while he would have wished to have arranged things in his own fashion, he was not above taking advantage of the situation. His mother and Modesty might have sprung as neat a trap as he had ever seen, but he had no inclination to escape from it. Not when he shared it with the dark-eyed virago who had captured his heart.

  "You are vile!" Thea declared. "Vile and unprincipled and I will not marry you! Not even if you were the only man in the world. Not even if—!"

  "Yes, you will," Patrick murmured, and plucked her from her seat across from him in the coach.

  "Let me go!" Thea gasped, struggling to escape from his firm clasp. "Who do you think you are? Unhand me this instant, you blackguard."

  She was a bundle of vibrating outrage, but Patrick effortlessly settled her on his lap. He sympathized with her feelings, but whether they liked it or not, they had been well and truly trapped by as clever a pair of conspirators as he had ever met. No amount of rage or fury was going to change things, and Thea had to realize that they were going to have to make the best of things. They would marry. On Saturday.

  Stilling her efforts to free herself from his grip, he asked, "Would you believe me, if I told you I had nothing to do with what happened tonight? That my mother's announcement came as much as a shock to me as it did to you? Would you believe that my mother and Modesty put their heads together and duped both of us? That I am as innocent as you?"

  Thea flashed him a look. "No," she snapped. "And you are reprehensible to try to blame two of the kindest, finest women I know for your own duplicity."

  Patrick sighed. He didn't think she would believe him, but it had been worth a try. "What do you want me to do, sweetheart?" he asked. "Shall I write the Times and inform them that the announcement is a mistake? That my mother lied? Have a retraction printed? Would you like that? It should cause at least twice the storm of gossip the news of our betrothal will cause. Perhaps you like being the subject of gossip?"

  Thea drew in a furious breath. "Of all the wicked things to say! Of course I do not want to be the topic of gossip. After what I went through, you think I like notoriety? Are you mad?"

  He smiled. "Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you."

  Thea glared at him, not believing him for a moment. But she was very aware of him and wished she wasn't. She wished she found him as vile and repulsive as she claimed. But she didn't. Worse, she was conscious of him in a way that made her distinctly uneasy. His firm thighs were beneath her buttocks, his arms were holding her prisoner, and his mouth was only inches above hers. She was very aware of that mouth, memories of its touch, the sweet sensations it aroused, curling through her. Oh, blast! He had her emotions in a tangle and at this moment, she hated him. He had tricked her. Deceived her. Inveigled his poor mother and dear Modesty into a plot to help with his nefarious designs—and then he tried to blame them!

  Her chin lifted imperiously. "Why should I believe you? I know that you don't want to marry me—you wanted me for your mistress." She gasped as a thought occurred to her. "You did this because I wouldn't become your mistress!" Her eyes narrowed. "Revenge! That's why you are doing this. Because I changed my mind about becoming your mistress, you are taking revenge by forcing me to marry you."

  Patrick smothered a laugh. Only Thea would believe that there was something more honorable about becoming his mistress rather than his wife.

  "Are you certain you don't want to think about that a little longer?" he teased. "Most women would be pleased by a marriage proposal."

  Thea crossed her arms over her chest. "As I recall," she muttered, "you did not propose to me. At least not marriage."

  His lips quirked. "Very well then." His head dropped and his lips brushed hers. "Miss Garrett, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife? Please?"

  Thea's heart nearly leaped out of her throat at the touch of his mouth on hers, and her stomach felt as if it had dropped right down to her toes. But she was not going to let him dist
ract her—no matter how pleasurable. Her lips tingling from his light caress, she gathered her scattered forces.

  Sitting as far away from him as space, and his arms, would allow, she replied with relish, "Absolutely not!"

  "You have cut me to the quick, sweetheart," Patrick said. "But I am afraid that you have no choice—even if all the guests at my mother's tonight could be sworn to silence, there is, you see, that damnable notice to the Times."

  Thea stared at him for several seconds, her thoughts in chaos. Would it be so very bad being married to him? In her heart she knew the answer to that question, and while she was wildly attracted to him, it did not change the fact that she mistrusted him and did not understand his motives. That someone like Patrick Blackburne would actually want to marry her never crossed her mind—despite the intervening decade and her seeming acceptance back into the bosom of the ton, she never forgot that she was a ruined woman and that she had caused her brother's death. She did not know how to judge Patrick. Her reputation did not seem to deter him... and her reckless antics, such as the trip to a certain house on Curzon Street, had not seemed to give him a distaste for her. Was it her reputation that drew him? Was he using her to thumb his nose at society? Did he think her past would make her a complaisant wife, willing to turn a blind eye to other women in his life?

  Feeling sick inside, she glanced out the window of the coach. She did not like the direction of her thoughts, but nothing else made much sense. Everything inside of her rebelled at thinking him so jaded, so calculating, but she could not deny that he had tricked her into marriage—for whatever reasons. It was all suddenly too much for her. Her emotions were tearing her apart, her heart leaning one way, past experience another. Two things were inescapable: He appealed to her in a way she could not explain, and though she was angry and resentful of it, tonight's announcement in a room full of the leaders of the ton and the dreaded notice in the Times sealed her fate. She would marry Patrick Blackburne.