by Kruger, Mary
On impulse she pulled out a gown of sapphire blue satin and stared at it, shaking her head. What in the world had possessed her to buy it? Besides being such a bright color, its cut was positively indecent, so low at the neck that it bared her shoulders, cut in such a way that it draped over her curves, leaving little to the imagination. She would only make herself a figure of fun, an old woman trying to look young. The burgundy silk was a much better choice. Much safer.
Thea felt much more confident as she entered Almack’s that evening. As usual the fashionable assembly rooms were crowded; looking around, she concluded that many who mattered in the ton were in attendance, along with young ladies still hopeful of catching a husband. She smiled at the patronesses, who returned the greeting with great condescension, and greeted acquaintances. Her eyes went around the room, and settled unerringly on Jeremy, standing with a group of people.
Her breath caught. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he was so handsome, but it did, every time. He was, again, in faultless black and white, the sapphire stickpin thrust into the folds of his neckcloth shining almost as brilliantly as his eyes. He was so alive, so vital, that he made every man in the room pale in comparison. And he wasn’t alone. Hanging on his arm was a vision in pink and gold, garbed in a frilly white muslin gown and dimpling up at a dazed-looking Lord Ware. Jeremy’s fiancée. It had to be, she thought, and felt the world crumble beneath her feet. Never before had she felt so lost, or so alone.
The girl took Jeremy’s arm, looking up at him with the same sweet smile with which she had favored Lord Ware, and Jeremy smiled back. It broke Thea out of her trance. Anger, more familiar and so much safer than the unfamiliar sensations she’d had a moment before, began to fill her. Miss Evadne Powell, if such she was, was a fool. Imagine flirting with another man, any other man, with Jeremy standing next to her! Jeremy deserved better. Jeremy, she thought with a little shock that went all the way to her toes, deserved her.
Chapter Four
Thea stood as if turned to stone. Jeremy deserved her? Goodness, no one deserved that fate, she told herself in a shaky attempt at humor. Whatever had come over her, to think such a thing? She had no desire to marry again, none. And if Jeremy deserved her, she didn’t deserve him. He was too vibrant, too handsome, too alive. He certainly deserved better than the little vixen hanging on his arm, pretty though she was.
Francis tugged at her arm again. “I say, Thea, everyone’s watching us,” he muttered, his voice low and urgent.
“What? Oh. Oh, yes, of course, Fran.” At last she moved, though her eyes never left Jeremy. If people were watching, she didn’t care, though normally she took care not to make herself a figure of gossip. The girl was beautiful. Of course. Since his return from the army Jeremy had seldom been seen with any girl that wasn’t. Trust him to go into Berkshire and find a beauty lurking there, too. They looked so well together, she thought, her heart twisting painfully, she so fair, he so dark, bending over her protectively. Except that she didn’t seem to notice; she was smiling again at Lord Ware, that silly moonling, and batting her eyes at him. Thea was seized by an emotion so fierce, so primal in its intensity that it shook her. What it was, she couldn’t for the life of her say, except that, in that moment, she knew she’d taken Miss Evadne Powell in extreme dislike.
“I say,” Francis said beside her. “Who is that with Stanton?”
“His fiancée, I believe,” Thea said, shaking herself slightly. This wouldn’t do. She could not let herself go to pieces at Almack’s, of all places, in full view of the ton.
“She’s beautiful.” There was a note in Francis’s voice she’d never heard there before, but she paid it little heed.
“Well enough, I suppose.” But she was lovely, Thea thought, seeing even at this distance the cornflower blue of Evadne’s eyes, enormous and fringed with dark lashes, and the sheen of her golden ringlets. And young, so young. Though she was only six and twenty and certainly was still attractive, Thea knew she was past her first youth. On the whole, she was glad. There was little to be said for the fresh, dewy ignorance of youth, and she had a poise now that she’d lacked as a young girl. There was no denying, however, that someone so young and fresh could be enormously appealing. Thea only hoped that Evadne was as sweet as she looked.
Thea allowed herself one more look at Jeremy, and then turned away. “He’ll have his hands full with her, I fear.”
“Lucky dog,” Francis muttered. Thea glanced quickly up at him. Men could be such fools. Anyone could see that all Miss Powell had to recommend her was her beauty. Well, Francis, thank heavens, was safe.
“I suppose I should meet her,” she said. “It will only give the gossips more to talk about if I snub her.”
Francis’s gaze was curious. “I say, Thea, if you don’t mind my asking, what is between you and Stanton?”
“Nothing,” Thea said quickly. “We are friends, nothing more.”
“If I thought he’d hurt you—”
Thea glanced up sharply, alarmed at the note she heard in his voice. “Fran, this is none of your affair.”
“You’re my sister. Up to me to defend you.”
“I don’t need defending. Jeremy hasn’t done anything to hurt me.”
“Except betroth himself to someone else.”
“He asked me first,” she blurted, her face going red. That was a secret she’d intended to take with her to the grave. “I refused, of course.”
Francis’s gaze was searching. “Did you, Thea?”
“Yes.” She held his eyes. “You know I’ve no desire to marry again.”
“After the way Jameson treated you, I’m not surprised,” he said grimly, startling her again. She’d had no idea he knew anything about her marriage to Hugh.
“It’s past,” she said, briefly. “I like my life now.”
Francis’s eyes followed Jeremy and his fiancée as they stepped out on the floor to join a country dance. “But you don’t like it that he’s engaged.”
“For heaven’s sake, Fran, Stanton and I are simply friends! And I don’t wish to see him hurt.”
“Let’s dance.” With all the impetuousness of a brother and none of the grace of a suitor, Francis pulled her out onto the floor. “But if he hurts you, Thea, he’ll answer to me.”
“He’s said to be an excellent shot,” she teased.
“It doesn’t matter.” Francis’s face was grim.
“Fran, don’t be silly,” she began, just as the steps in the dance took them away from each other. Men! They had such silly notions of honor. If Jeremy chose to marry someone else, what was that to her? Nothing. Raising her chin defiantly, she turned, hands outstretched for the next movement in the dance, and found herself face to face with Jeremy.
For just a moment, her breath stopped. Then she recovered. She was, after all, no green girl. She could handle this. “Stanton,” she said, smiling. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Thea.” He smiled back. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Thea’s laugh sounded brittle, artificial even to her own ears. “You can say that, when you have such a lovely fiancée? You are lucky, Jeremy.”
“I am,” he agreed, smiling down at her with that special warmth that was his alone, the warmth that he should not be using on other women, now that he was engaged. “We’ll talk later?”
“Oh, assuredly,” she said, and let the dance whirl her away again. Her breath was unsteady, her legs shaky. Jeremy. If she’d been prepared—but then, she never could have been prepared for tonight. Never.
“Althea. And Thorne,” a voice spoke behind her when the dance ended, and she had just laid her hand on Francis’s arm. In spite of herself, Thea jerked her head around, to see Jeremy, his future bride on his arm. All the tangled, conflicting feelings she thought she’d soothed suddenly rose up within her again, stronger for having been suppressed. At the moment, she strongly disliked both Jeremy and his fiancée.
“Stanton.” She smiled. “A fine dance, was it not?�
�
“Yes. We were about to take some refreshment. Would you care to join us?”
Francis made a face. “Lemonade and stale cakes? No offense, Stanton, but I should say not.”
Thea’s hand tightened on her brother’s arm. “Actually, I am a trifle warm after that dance, Fran. Shall we join them?”
“Of course.” Francis stood, unmoving. “Haven’t introduced us to your partner, Stanton.”
“Haven’t I? My apologies.” Jeremy smiled down at the girl on his arm. “Mrs. Jameson, Mr. Thorne, may I introduce you to Miss Powell. My fiancée.”
Thea smiled at the girl. “A pleasure to meet you.”
After a quick, frankly appraising glance, Evadne smiled back. “Thank you, ma’am.” She lowered her eyelids. “You are most kind.”
“Are you enjoying your stay in London?”
“Oh, yeth,” Evadne said breathlessly, suddenly batting her eyelashes at Francis. Thea felt her brother’s arm jerk in surprise. “Everyone has been so kind. And I’ve been so enjoying meeting Stanton’s friends, though of course they are all so much older than I.”
“Evadne, shall we see about that lemonade?” Jeremy said, hastily, but not before Thea saw what she could swear was a gleam in his eye. He was enjoying this, the wretch! She could quite cheerfully kill him. “Thea?”
At that moment, the orchestra began to play again. “Oh, a waltz,” Thea said, looking at her dance card. “I wonder if I am promised for this—”
“A waltth, Stanton!” Evadne exclaimed at the same time. “Oh, please, letth danth. Pleath?”
“Not this time.” Jeremy patted her hand. “The patronesses haven’t approved you yet.”
Evadne pouted. “But Stanton, you promithed.”
Jeremy smiled. “Next time. Thea? Are you promised?”
Oh, the wretch! At any other time she would have loved to waltz with him, but not tonight, with his lovely, young, lisping fiancée with him. Lisping! Good lord, what had Jeremy got himself into? “Of course, Stanton,” she said, graciously. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll escort Miss Powell to her mother, shall I?” Francis said. “If you don’t mind, Stanton.”
“No, of course not,” Jeremy said, and swept Thea out onto the floor.
It was just a waltz. Nothing more. She’d danced it with Jeremy many times before; doubtless she would again. Just a waltz. Just his hand at her waist, hers at his shoulder. Not an embrace. Just a dance.
“Out with it, Thea,” Jeremy said, and she looked up to see him regarding her with a smile.
“She lisps,” Thea said, the first thing she could think of to say.
Jeremy grinned. “I know. It’s funny, is it not?”
“Does she always flirt so, Jeremy?”
“Always,” he said, cheerfully. “She’s young. She’ll grow out of it.” He swung her in a turn that left her quite breathless. Only a dance, she reminded herself. “I think, too, that she’s nervous.”
“Nervous!” Thea glanced across the room. Evadne and her mother had been joined by Sally Jersey and a man she couldn’t, at the moment, identify, and Evadne was, as usual, smiling and flirting. “I don’t think she has a nervous bone in her body, Jeremy.”
“Now, Thea. Don’t you remember your first season?”
“I didn’t have one, Jeremy. I was already married.”
“And you’ve faced the gossips ever since, nevertheless. Lord, I’ve missed you, Thea!” he said, suddenly, turning her again.
She must be out of breath from dancing. That was why she was suddenly so dizzy. “Oh, what a plumper!” she managed to reply. “With your fiancée by your side?” She glanced away. “She is lovely, Jeremy.”
“Yes, that she is. I think I’ve made a good choice.”
“Do you—love her?” She had to ask. She had to know.
Jeremy gave her a puzzled look. “No, of course not. I told you before, Thea. I don’t believe in love.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I do, however, believe in friendship. You and I are still friends?”
Thea made her eyes meet his. “Yes, Jeremy.”
“Good. And I hope you’ll be a friend to Evadne, as well. She’ll need one.”
It was too much. Thea nearly stopped dancing right then and there. How dare he ask her to befriend his little bride! Had he no sense? She and Evadne had disliked each other on sight. Well, no. She didn’t really dislike the girl, she didn’t know her well enough for that. She just didn’t think she was right for Jeremy. “I think she’ll manage quite well for herself. She seems to be able to get what she wants,” she said, and Jeremy followed her gaze across the room. Evadne was being led out onto the floor by a tall man garbed, like Jeremy, in faultless black and white.
“Oh, the devil!” Jeremy exclaimed, his hold on Thea tightening.
“Who is it, Jeremy?”
“Roger DeVilliers, deuce take it. I’d best stop them—”
“She appears to be enjoying herself,” Thea said, looking up at him in surprise. Jeremy’s face had gone grim.
“Mm.” Jeremy pulled back. “Thea, do you mind—”
“Yes, Jeremy, I do mind! If we stop dancing now the gossips will be talking about it for the rest of the night.”
“I don’t care—”
“I do. And I’m willing to wager Miss Powell’s mother does, too.”
“Deuce take it,” Jeremy muttered, but he resumed the dance as if nothing untoward had occurred.
“You said yourself she’s a flirt,” Thea pointed out, glad to have just a bit of revenge.
“That’s not what I object to.”
Thea glanced over his shoulders. “Mr. DeVilliers, then? But he’s always seemed perfectly pleasant.”
“Mm.” He looked down at her, his eyes serious. “Evadne’s never been in town. She thinks she knows how to go on, but she doesn’t. I’ll do my best to guide her, of course, but she needs more than me. She needs someone like you.”
Thea returned his gaze straightly. “I will be pleasant to her, Jeremy, of course. But don’t expect any more of me.”
“No?”
“No.”
Jeremy looked at her in silence for a few moments, his eyes intent. “Very well. Friends, Thea?”
Thea swallowed, hard. “Yes,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “Friends.”
The presence of Miss Evadne Powell, and the waltz between Jeremy and Thea, did not go unnoticed. As Thea had feared, the gossips indeed wagged their tongues about the events taking place tonight. One person, however, watched with more than normal interest. Standing near the wall, holding a glass of punch, Roger looked here and there, seeing first the expression on Thea’s face, and then the look of youthful rapture on Evadne’s. So that was the girl who had at last captured Stanton’s heart. There was something he could do about that.
Leisurely he made his way across the room to the patronesses. His reputation was that of a rogue. Well earned, he admitted, even as he knew it had closed more than a few doors for him. Sally Jersey, however, one of Almack’s powerful patronesses, was known to harbor a soft spot for a charming rogue, and charming he could be. Within a few moments he had managed to persuade her to accompany him across the room to the Powells, and to introduce him to Miss Powell as a suitable partner for the waltz. There, he thought, leading her out onto the floor. Let’s see what Stanton had to say to this.
He looked down to see Evadne regarding him, her huge blue eyes wide and unexpectedly shrewd. “How did you come by your scar?” she asked, without preamble.
Just in time, Roger remembered to let his eyelids droop, giving them a heavy, mysterious appearance. “It’s not something I care to discuss in polite company, child.”
“Oh. A duel. I am not a child, thir.”
Roger raised an eyebrow. Thir? God help him, she was flirting with him. He could almost bring himself to feel pity for Stanton. Almost. “Are you enjoying your stay in London, Miss Powell?”
“Oh, yes!” Evadne said, and went
on to tell him, at great length and with great enthusiasm, all that she had seen and done since arriving in town. Roger listened to her prattle with only half an ear. Seducing this young miss away from Stanton, should he choose to do so, would be ridiculously easy. What did Stanton see in her, apart from her undeniable prettiness and her exuberant youth?
“And everybody has been so kind,” Evadne went on. “Though they’re so much older than I expected.”
Roger hadn’t much of a sense of humor, but even he was tempted to laugh at that. “But one can’t help being kind to someone as lovely as you,” he said, and Evadne turned pink with pleasure. “Tell me. Does Stanton treat you well?”
Evadne’s eyes widened. “Why, sir, what a question! Of course he does.”
“Peace, child, I ask only because I would not wish to see you hurt. You must know that your engagement came as a surprise to everyone.”
“I don’t know why. It must have been expected he’d marry.”
“Yes, but, you see, his name has been linked with others.”
“Is it linked with someone’s now?” she asked, with such swift curiosity that Roger was taken aback.
“Well, as it happens,” he murmured, turning his head a bit, until his gaze rested on Jeremy and Thea. Deep in conversation, they might as well have been alone in the room, for all the attention they paid to anyone else.
Evadne followed his look. “Mrs. Jameson?” she said in surprise.
“Ah. You’ve met her, I see.”
“Yes, just now. Stanton said she is a friend.”
“Very much so,” Roger agreed, and Evadne looked up at him, her eyes shrewd again.
“His special friend, sir?”
“Now, Miss Powell,” he chided. “You know I can’t tell you such a thing.”
“She is, then.” Evadne watched Jeremy and Thea, dancing, and her brow furrowed. “But she’s so old.”
“Not so very,” Roger said, wryly.
“I must talk to her.” Evadne thrust her chin out and pulled back from his hand. It was only by luck, and strength, that Roger kept her with him, swinging her around in the dance.