by Kruger, Mary
“She needs you, Thea.” This was the crucial moment. He leaned forward, making his voice persuasive. “I don’t like seeing her so frightened. My groom has tried to teach her, but he doesn’t know what to do. You would.”
“I don’t know anything about children, Jeremy.”
“Gillian likes you. All she’s talked about since we’ve got back, the little she’s talked, is you. And the kittens.”
“Well, yes, that’s all very well, but—”
“She’d trust you, I’m certain of it. Thea, I don’t know what else to do.”
Thea leaned back, her eyes closed. It was tempting, so tempting. Going to Moulton would mean seeing him every day, talking with him, being with him. And Evadne. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I think you know quite well.” She faced him levelly. “This isn’t about Gillian at all, is it?”
Jeremy returned her look for a moment, and then smiled. “No, not totally. Thea—”
“Get out.” She rose and tugged on the bellpull again. “If you think you can bamboozle me like this, you’re wrong.”
“You’ve got it wrong, Thea. I care about you, and—”
“And I told you I won’t be your mistress.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, Thea!”
“What else is there? Ah, Hanson, there you are,” she said, as the butler came into the room. “Lord Stanton was just leaving. Will you see him to the door?”
“Yes, ma’am. My lord?”
Jeremy stood still for a moment, gazing at her. “Very well, Thea, I’ll go. But this isn’t the end of it, you know.”
“Goodbye, Jeremy,” she said, standing, her hands clasped before her, as he walked away. For of course this was the end of it. That he thought so little of her that he could make her such an offer cut to her soul. She had been better off with Hugh. At least he had been honest in his cruelty.
“Ma’am?” Hanson stood in the doorway. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“No, thank you, Hanson.” She forced a smile to her lips, though the emotions evoked by Jeremy’s visit were roiling inside her and she felt nauseated. “Please take the tray. I’m not at home to any more visitors today.”
“Very good, ma’am,” Hanson said, and, after one quick glance at her, went out.
With relief Thea sank down onto the sofa, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, willing her stomach to settle. Lately it got upset at the oddest times, and though she had wondered if she were sickening for something, she knew now what was wrong with her. She was heartsick. Jeremy didn’t love her, and never would. She would have to make a life without him. Oh, she would manage. She’d done quite well since becoming a widow, and she knew she would again. For now, though, the pain was almost more than she could bear. Jeremy was gone. She doubted she’d ever see him again.
“What did Stanton want?” Francis asked that afternoon, as Thea, standing beside him, bent over the ledgers that held the accounts for the stud farm.
“Nothing. These look good, Fran. You’re doing good work.”
“Thank you. Whatever he said upset you, Thea. You didn’t eat anything at luncheon.”
“I ate,” she protested.
“Not much. If he did anything to upset you, I’ll—”
“What? Call him out? Don’t be silly.”
“Call him to account, anyway. He’s a fool.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Everyone can see he’s not right for Evadne. Miss Powell, I mean.”
Thea gave him a long look. Not for the first time, she wondered about Francis’s feelings for Evadne. Not for the first time, she felt immensely sad for him. And herself. “Well, there’s not much one can do about it, is there? I think I’ll have Daffodil saddled and—oh!” She grabbed at the edge of the desk as she straightened, her face very white.
“Thea!” Francis jumped up and grasped her arm, pulling her over to a chair. She collapsed into it without any grace, grateful just to be off her feet, her hand to her head. “My God, you’re pale. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I think so.” She took a deep breath. “I felt dizzy for a moment. It will pass.”
“I don’t think you should ride.”
“Nonsense, Fran, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. I’ll bring you back to the house.”
Thea looked up and saw a look of resolution on his face. In spite of the sick, swirling feeling inside her, she felt a stab of satisfaction. Bringing Francis here, away from the temptations of London, had been a good idea. “All right,” she said, meekly.
A short while later she leaned her head back on the sofa in the drawing room. Francis had wanted to bring her to her room, but that she had steadfastly refused. Ordinarily in the stoutest of health, she wasn’t about to give into this weakness. Not when it had been brought about by that dratted man, and the unpleasant emotions he awoke in her.
“You do look pale, Thea dear,” Lydia said, glancing up from her crewel. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in bed?”
“No, Aunt. I’ll be fine in a little while.” She gave Lydia a smile she hoped was reassuring, but that she feared was not. “I’m very rarely sick. You know that.”
“Yes, dear. This isn’t like you at all.” Lydia returned to her crewel and then set it down, her lips firming in resolution. “Thea, dear, could you be,” she began, and stopped.
Thea looked up. “Could I be what, aunt?”
“Oh, no, no, never mind. It’s silly.”
“What is?”
“No, no, it’s not important.”
“Aunt.” Thea kept her voice patient. “I can see that you’re upset about something. Won’t you please tell me?”
“Well, not exactly upset, dear. It just occurred to me.”
“What?”
Lydia tilted her head. “Could you be with child?”
Chapter Fourteen
Thea sat up straight, her head spinning with physical reaction, and the shock of what Lydia had just said. “I can’t—Aunt, what did you say?”
Lydia went placidly on with her crewel. “It seemed to be a possibility, dear.”
“But—but I can’t be. Stanton and I—” She stopped, coloring, at the look Lydia gave her. “How did you know?” she said, weakly.
“Well, Thea dear, I do watch people, you know. Anyone with eyes can see how you feel about each other.”
“But—don’t you think—doesn’t it bother you?”
“No, dear, why should it? I think you deserve some happiness.” Lydia held her crewel at arm’s length, studying it critically. “Though I must say you haven’t looked happy lately.”
“I can’t be with child,” Thea said, even as she remembered the signs and symptoms of her body that told her she could be.
“Perhaps not. I realize this must be a shock to you, dear.” Lydia tilted her head to the side again. “There’s a different look to you lately, though. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it is like the time I decided to add gold thread to a purse I was stitching. It made everything glow.”
Thea bit back a hysterical desire to giggle. Oh, if only! She knew quite well, though, that what Lydia had suggested was impossible. “I’m not with child, aunt,” she said, quietly. “I can’t have children.”
Lydia looked up, her eyes bright. “Oh? Who told you that, dear?”
“No one.” She swallowed, embarrassed by the intimacy of this conversation. “When Hugh and I—well. I know Hugh was your nephew, but, well, he had children already. And I—we tried, but I never did. It had to be my fault.”
“Hugh told you that?”
Thea looked away, her cheeks pink. “Yes.”
“I see. Hugh was many things, but I never realized before that he was a liar.”
“Aunt!” Thea stared at her. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Hugh had no children, dear.”
“But there were women. I saw them.”
Lydia shook her head. “He was cruel, wasn’t h
e? I never realized. Yes, Thea dear, there were women. After he died, I visited every one of them. Well, someone had to see that they were taken care of,” she went on, as Thea made an exclamation of surprise. “Hugh certainly didn’t. And none of them, even with that, claimed that their children were his.” She shook her head. “He lied to you, dear.”
Thea was staring at Lydia, stunned by such cool practicality, so at odds with her woolly-minded appearance. “He lied,” she said, falling back against the sofa. “Then, all that time—good God, I might be!” Filled with fierce wonder, she pressed her hand against her still-flat stomach. A child. After all this time, she was to have a child. And the child would have no father.
As abruptly as that, her joy faded. She was unmarried and would remain so, and her child would bear the burden. For all that, though, she wasn’t sorry. She couldn’t be. A child, the product of the love she felt for Jeremy, even if that love weren’t returned. Against all the odds, in spite of all the difficulties ahead, she wanted this baby, as she had never in her life wanted everything. “I’m going to have a baby,” she said, her voice soft with wonder.
“Yes, dear. I’ll have to be thinking about making a layette for it.”
Mirth bubbled up inside her. “I think there’s time for that, aunt. I’m not even certain of it yet.”
“Yes, you are.” Lydia set down the crewel. “What are you going to tell Stanton?”
Thea’s eyes were wary. “Nothing.”
“For shame, Thea. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”
“What could he do about it, aunt? He’s marrying someone else.”
“This is not a time for foolish scruples, Thea,” Lydia said, in a stern tone Thea had never before heard her use. “You are not the only one involved in this. Stanton has a right to know, and what of the child?”
Thea looked away, gnawing at her lower lip. Lydia was right. Difficult though it would be, she would have to tell Jeremy about this. There was her child to consider. She couldn’t allow him to be branded with the cruel names that were given to a child without a father. “You’re right,” she said, finally. “I will have to tell him.”
“I knew you would do the right thing. Oh, dear.” Lydia laid down her needlework. “I shall have to get in some wool for knitting, but what color do I choose?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it yet.” Thea rose and crossed the room, bending to kiss Lydia on the forehead. “Thank you, aunt. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, and went into her study, to pen a note accepting Jeremy’s invitation to visit Moulton.
The barouche jounced as it rounded the turn onto the drive for Moulton Hall and carefully edged its way down the hill, making Thea reach for the strap to steady herself. She took a deep, calming breath. Ahead of her, seen through the windows of the carriage, was the sea, blue-gray on this day of scudding clouds, with the chimneys of the house just visible behind the trees. She was here. After arguing the wisdom of this trip with herself, she was here, and she knew at last it was the right thing to do. Jeremy had to know about his child.
The doctor in the village near Linwood had confirmed her pregnancy, hiding his shock behind a mask of concern, both of which Thea ignored. A child. She would be a mother at last. She exulted in the changes in her body, however slight: the slight thickening of her waist, the new fullness in her breasts; even the nausea that assailed her at unexpected times. For so long she had wanted this, and had resigned herself to not having it. Now she did. She was in love, and she was to have a child. She also was not married. Perhaps she should have been worried, but she wasn’t. Instead, she felt a vast contentment that went bone-deep. For the first time in many years, she felt complete.
The carriage drew up and a footman came to open the door for her. “Welcome to Moulton,” someone said behind her, and she turned to see Jeremy, coming down the broad, shallow stairs toward her, smiling.
The smile did funny things to Thea, making her heart jump. “I didn’t realize you were so near the sea,” she said, to cover her reaction.
Jeremy looked down at her. “Do you like the sea, Thea?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never really been so close before,” she said, returning the smile and hoping her feelings didn’t show in her eyes. The constraint that had been between them during their last two encounters was suddenly gone.
“You’ve the chance now. Come, you must be tired after your trip.” He took her arm. “Gillian and I like to sail. Do you think you’d like to try it?”
The very thought made her stomach turn, but she forced herself to smile. “Yes, that sounds enjoyable. Where is Gillian?” she asked as they walked into the entrance hall. Gillian, after all, was her excuse for visiting. “I’ve a present for her in the carriage.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Thea. But thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until you know what it is.” Mischief sparked in her eyes. “I brought her a kitten.”
Jeremy’s face twisted. “A kitten! Dash it, Thea, you know animals make me sneeze.”
“And horses frighten Gillian.” She faced him directly. “We all have our fears, Jeremy.”
“I suppose we do.” He turned to look at her. “And what do you fear, Thea?”
Thea, about to answer, stopped. Jeremy was holding open the door of the drawing room for her, and there, sitting on the sofa, was Evadne. Pouring out tea, she looked as if she belonged here. There was what Thea feared. That Jeremy didn’t love her. That he had, instead, fallen in love with his fiancée, unsuited for him though she was. If that had happened, neither she nor her child would have a chance. “Miss Powell. How nice to see you again,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips.
“Mrs. Jameson.” Evadne’s smile was equally insincere. “So kind of you to visit us.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as Thea sat facing her, drawing off her gloves. “Do you plan to stay with us long?”
Thea’s fingers tightened briefly on her gloves at the proprietary tone of Evadne’s voice. “Until I know whether or not I can make any progress with Gillian.”
“Miss Gardner is not with you?” Agatha, seated beside Evadne on the sofa, said, her chins wobbling. There was a note of censure in her voice.
Thea smiled. “I asked Lydia to come with me, of course, but she’s been invited back to Rochester Castle. Apparently the duke’s brother is quite taken with her.” She smiled. “She’s embroidering a pair of carpet slippers for him.”
“And what of Mr. Thorne?” Evadne asked, keeping her eyes on the teapot as she poured.
“Francis? He stayed behind to manage the stables.” She looked at Evadne for a moment, and then turned to Jeremy, who was standing by the fireplace, an elbow propped on the mantel. “Does Gillian know why I’m here?”
He shook his head. “No. I haven’t said anything to her. Do you have any idea what you’ll do?”
“Yes. But, mind you, Jeremy, I won’t see her threatened to go on a horse.”
“Stanton must be considered to know how best to raise his daughter,” Agatha said.
“Of course,” Thea murmured, and Jeremy sent her a look, his lip quirked.
“I’ll send for her, shall I?” he said, tugging on the bellpull. For the next several moments the conversation centered on such trivial subjects as the weather and Thea’s journey, until Gregg opened the door from the hall. Gillian came in, her eyes properly lowered, until she saw Thea.
Her face brightened. “Mrs. Jameson!” she exclaimed. “Father told me you were coming.”
Thea, glancing up at Jeremy, saw him wince at the word “father.” Things were indeed bad between them. “Hello, Gillian,” she said, rising and smiling at the child. “If I may, Jeremy, I’d like to take Gillian outside to show her something.”
“Of course.” Jeremy smiled. “I think you’ll like it, poppet.”
“Yes, Father,” Gillian said, and Jeremy winced again. He crossed to the window to see them emerge from the house and walk to Thea’s barouche. Gillian was holding trustingly to Thea
’s hand, her face puzzled, until Thea withdrew a box from the carriage. He couldn’t keep from smiling when he saw Gillian suddenly begin to jump up and down with excitement.
“That’s the way,” he muttered.
“What is it, Stanton?” Agatha demanded.
Jeremy didn’t turn. “Thea’s brought Gillian a kitten.”
“Thea? Oh, Mrs. Jameson. She’ll spoil the child, Stanton.”
“Perhaps.” He turned and smiled at Agatha’s disapproving face. “But then, I must be considered to know what is best for my daughter. Excuse me.” He bowed and left the room.
“Well!” Two spots of color appeared high on Agatha’s cheeks. “I’m not sure I like this, Evadne.”
“No, Mama,” Evadne murmured. For once, she was in perfect agreement with her mother. No matter what relations were like between her and Stanton, it went beyond all bounds of propriety for him to bring his mistress here. She didn’t like it at all. Something, she decided, would have to be done.
“...and Daddy keeps his boat in the boathouse down there,” Gillian said, swinging Thea’s hand as they walked along. It was morning, just after breakfast, and Thea had secured a postponement of Gillian’s lessons to begin the task of gaining her trust. “Do you want to see it?”
Thea smiled down at her. “Not just now, kitten. I’d like to see the stables.”
Gillian’s smile faded, and her steps slowed. “Why?”
“Why, because I’d like to see how my team is doing, in a strange stable. And because I like horses.”
Gillian’s brow furrowed. “Why?” she said again.
“Why?” Thea stopped, her head tilted to the side. “I don’t know, really. Why do you like kittens?”
“Because they’re small and soft and cuddly and they don’t hurt you.”
“Did your pony throw you, Gillian?” Thea asked, gently, and to her dismay saw Gillian’s frown turn into a mutinous pout.
“I don’t want to go see the horses,” she declared.
“All right, you don’t have to.”
Gillian gazed up at her, amazed. “I don’t?”