She had never heard a man sound so lonely. She wanted to hold him, to put her arms around him to comfort him, so she got out of bed and hurried to stand between him and the door. “I’m sure you were a comfort to your mother, even if you weren’t there when she died,” she offered quietly.
His eyes widened, as if this had never once occurred to him.
She embraced him gently, her heart full of sympathy for the boy he’d been and the pain he had endured, in some ways like her own, but also different, too.
She touched his cheek and looked up into his handsome, stoic visage. “She should have left your father.”
He shook his head. “She wasn’t like you, Thea. She couldn’t have managed on her own.”
It was the best compliment she’d ever received.
“I wish you could have known my mother,” he whispered.
“So do I. I think you must have her eyes. Is there not a portrait of her in the house?”
“No.”
“Yet you keep your father’s portrait in the study.”
He stepped away. “To make certain I am never like him.” He pointed to a red, mottled spot on the back of her arm usually hidden by her clothes. “How did you get that mark?”
She instinctively covered it. “I was burned by water from a kettle when I was a child.”
“In Ireland?”
“Dublin. We were visiting the Reverend Mr. Pennyfeather and I pulled a kettle over.”
“It must have been very painful.”
“It wasn’t so very bad a burn,” she said, wondering what had prompted him to mention it.
“Good night, Thea,” he said before he moved past her, opened the door and, without another word, left her, quietly closing the door behind him.
Thea stared at the closed door. She wished she hadn’t said a word to Dev about anything after making love, let alone his parents. She should have simply enjoyed the comfort of his presence, no matter how much she wanted to learn about the history of the man she’d married. Then he might have stayed.
But all was not to be regretted, her heart suggested. She had confirmed that he wanted children.
And next time they made love, she would say nothing afterward.
* * *
A few moments later, Dev slipped out of his bedroom and quietly made his way to the study. He got a sheet of fresh foolscap and began to write to the Duchess of Scane, telling her he and his wife would be delighted to attend her dinner party. That might yet prove to be a grievous error, especially if his marriage was annulled or Thea wasn’t Sir John Markham’s daughter, but he didn’t want to see that dismay and disappointment in Thea’s eyes again. Besides, he had endured rumors and nasty whispers before, as Thea had inadvertently reminded him. His parents’ unhappy union had been fodder for gossip for years, and he had survived.
He also wrote another letter to Roger, telling him about the scar on Thea’s arm. Now more than ever it seemed urgent that they find out if Thea was Sir John Markham’s daughter or not.
He did not tell Roger he’d been unable to resist making love to her again and more than once. Yet when he remembered being in Thea’s arms, the excitement, the passion, the craving she inspired and sated so well, losing the battle to resist the temptation to be with her didn’t seem a mistake. Loving her seemed inevitable and right, as if they were meant to be together.
But it was wrong. He had married out of guilt and lust, not love. Surely any marriage so conceived was doom to fail, and the sooner it was ended, the better.
When he had finished his letter, Dev folded his arms on his desk and laid his weary head upon them.
This time, he wasn’t pondering his conflicted feelings for his wife, or wondering what he should do about his marriage.
He was thinking of his poor mother and how different things might have been if she’d been more like Thea.
Chapter Nine
Three days later, Dev paced in the drawing room, waiting for his wife. The barouche was at the door and the coachman in his seat, ready to take them to the duke’s manor for the dinner party. He wasn’t used to waiting for a woman and couldn’t imagine what was taking so long. Thea had had hours to—
His impatience disappeared when Thea appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore a gown of silver silk in the latest fashion, low in the bodice with little capped sleeves. The skirt fell in a glistening swath of glimmering fabric to reveal satin slippers with silver buckles. Around her shoulders she had a shawl of the finest cashmere. Her thick chestnut-brown hair was piled high on her head, with curls dangling at the back and smaller ones on her forehead above her brilliant gray eyes. Little white flowers were woven into her hair as well, and her hands and arms were sheathed in long white gloves.
She was, simply, beautiful. As beautiful as any woman he’d ever seen or imagined.
And she was his wife.
Dev closed his parted lips and stepped forward to meet her as she came down the stairs with perfect poise, graceful and regal as a queen.
Yet something was missing and it took him only an instant to realize what. She should have a necklace around her slender neck, something as brilliant and shining as her eyes, if that were possible. He remembered a necklace of his mother’s, one of blue sapphires set in silver she had particularly loved.
Thea must have it. Whatever happened between them in the future, she should have it.
He watched her maid put her evening cloak around her shoulders, then held out his arm to escort her to the carriage. Torches burned in sconces on the side of the vehicle to light the way, and thankfully the roads were dry.
Once inside with Thea seated across from him, he knocked on the roof and the carriage lurched into motion.
The windows were covered against the evening chill, so he thought she might look at him. Instead she seemed preoccupied with the drawstring of her cloak.
He wondered what she would do if he joined her on that side of the carriage and kissed her. It was very tempting.
He was about to put thought into action when she suddenly looked at him with what could only be dread and said, “Do you suppose many people will be there?”
“Going by my experience of the duchess’s dinner parties, probably twenty to thirty.”
That was clearly not a comforting answer. “You look lovely,” he said, smiling to ease her concern.
“I’ve never had such a fine gown,” she said. “I hope I don’t spill anything on it.”
“I’m sure you won’t, but if you do, your maid should be able to fix it.”
“Yes, she will,” Thea answered with more confidence, and her shoulders relaxed a little.
“How do you find her? I gather from a few comments Mrs. Wessex made before she arrived that she was afraid the girl wouldn’t do.”
The vibrant energy came back to Thea’s eyes. “Only because Alice Cartwright was an orphan and went to a charity school. She’s been most satisfactory.”
“I thought she must be or Mrs. Wessex would have told me.”
Thea folded her hands in her lap and fixed him with a steadfast gaze. “Mrs. Wessex said you support several charity schools.”
“Yes, I do,” he readily admitted. “I think education is a good thing, for anyone.”
“I quite agree,” she said, and how she smiled then! It was as if he’d never really seen her smile before—and perhaps he hadn’t. Even better, she obviously approved of his charitable ventures and didn’t begrudge the cost.
When the barouche turned and passed through the gate to the duke’s estate, he reached out to cover Thea’s clasped hands with his own. “No need to worry about the duchess. You’re the equal of any woman there.”
“I’m not afraid of the duchess,” she said, so calmly he believed her. “And Gladys will be there.”
&nbs
p; So would he, but apparently she didn’t consider him much moral support.
Which was an unexpectedly distressing thought.
The barouche rolled to a stop and a tall, white-wigged footman opened the door. Dev disembarked and reached up to take Thea’s hand. As she climbed out of the carriage, she looked up in wonder at the duke’s manor. Every window of the enormous mansion was lit, and a whole line of servants could be seen waiting in the hall.
It was one thing to best the duchess in a shop, he supposed, and quite another to face her in her own manor house with the trappings of five centuries of wealth and privilege around her.
He squeezed Thea’s hand and she glanced at him not with dread, but with grim determination, like a general before a battle.
Her pride and resolve were also clearly in command when they entered the vast and opulent drawing room, where it seemed a multitude awaited. Instead of blushing or looking anxious, his wife raised her chin and smiled at everyone.
“Good evening, Lady Dundrake!” the duke exclaimed from where he stood beside his wife and daughter. “You look a picture, my lady! Glad to see this young fella doesn’t stint when it comes to his wife’s clothes, eh?”
“My husband is very generous,” she agreed, for the moment not acknowledging the duchess or Caroline beside her. “And please, I’d much rather my husband’s good friend called me Thea. Lady Dundrake is so formal.”
The duchess looked as if she’d like to call Thea something else. “I’m sure we wouldn’t do anything so common,” she declared acerbically.
Dev could have throttled the overdressed peahen of a woman on the spot.
Thea, however, smiled and ran a haughty gaze over the duchess in a way that would have done credit to the duchess herself. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t realize being familiar with one’s friends was considered rude here. However, if that is so, you will have to call me Lady Dundrake. Long, of course, but shorter than Lady Theodora Esmerelda Persephone Grace Dundrake. The poor dean at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin had such a terrible time with it at my baptism.”
Dev had to choke back the urge to laugh out loud when he saw the expression on the duchess’s face, even as he made a mental note of all Thea’s names and where she’d been baptized. He’d have to tell Roger about that. Surely she wouldn’t make up something like that when there were baptismal records that could be checked.
“And of course I’m delighted to meet you again, Lady Caroline,” his wife continued, moving past the duchess toward her daughter. “What a beautiful gown!”
Caroline was really quite lovely, but not when she was dressed in a scarlet gown with an elaborate, heavily embroidered overtunic and wearing a necklace of gold and rubies so heavy and cumbersome he was surprised she wasn’t bowed down by the weight of it. Her mother must have chosen it for her, for the duchess’s own gown was almost the same, albeit in a shade of chartreuse that did no favors to the woman’s complexion. The duchess’s diamond necklace drew more scrutiny to her wrinkled neck than impressed with its probable cost.
“I do hope you’ll come to call on me soon,” Thea was saying to Caroline, and with apparent sincerity. “Even with a wonderful husband, it’s very lonely being in a new home, as I daresay you’ll find out soon.” Thea nodded toward a knot of young men, most of whom were understandably staring back at them. “I’m sure there are many vying for your favor.”
And too many who might vie for Thea’s, Dev thought with a sudden jolt of jealousy.
A few, like that rogue Leamington-Rudney, caught his eye and wisely looked away.
If he’d needed another excuse to stay home from this party, he would have found it if he’d known Lord Leamington-Rudney would be there.
“Oh, there must have been plenty of young bucks after you,” the duke said to Thea. “Mind you, your husband should be glad the young Apollo! didn’t meet you first, or he wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Our son will have his pick of suitable young ladies when he returns,” the duchess noted before she fixed her malevolent glare onto Dev and spoke as if Thea weren’t there. “You must tell us how you met your wife. Nobody seems to have heard of her before.”
“I was raised in Ireland, Your Grace,” Thea answered before he could, “where the fields are so green in spring it almost hurts your eyes to look at them. As for how we met...” She gave Dev a secretive, seductive look that made him want to pick her up, carry her upstairs and make love to her in the first bedroom he came to. “That’s between us. But I will admit it was love at first sight, at least for me, Your Grace.”
“For me, too,” Dev couldn’t help adding as he took hold of her hand.
He had intended to merely silence the duchess, but as soon as he said those words and held Thea’s hand, he felt a sense of confirmation. And when Thea looked at him and smiled, he felt that even more.
Caroline’s eyes widened, while her mother’s narrowed. “Indeed?” the duchess remarked skeptically.
“Indeed,” Thea returned with conviction.
Lady Gladys appeared at the door to the drawing room, with an older couple behind her who were surely her parents. The man was slightly stout, but more muscular than fat, and with a thick mustache that matched his gray hair. He wore evening dress that was fashionable a decade or two ago and, judging by his satisfied air, was completely content. His wife, as tall as Gladys, with a back as straight as a poker, was fashionably attired in a black silk gown with beading on the bodice and a black lace shawl. Although the two women shared the same statuesque build, the countess didn’t resemble her daughter in looks. Lady Byford’s features were sharp and pointed, whereas Gladys’s more pleasant expression softened any of the less attractive elements she’d inherited from her mother. She wore a flowing gown of pale pink satin trimmed with darker pink ribbons. It was youthful without being juvenile, and pretty without being overdone, like the duchess’s daughter’s unfortunate gown.
After the briefest of greetings to the duke, duchess and Lady Caroline, Gladys proceeded to introduce her parents to Thea.
The Earl of Byford said hello, smiled in a genial sort of way, then all but dragged Dev off to talk about his newest horse. As they moved away, more guests arrived to take the duchess and Caroline’s attention, so Thea, Gladys and the countess moved farther into the room decorated in a fashionable Nile green. It felt rather like being under the sea.
“Well, you’re a sweet little thing and no mistake,” the countess announced, her voice sounding almost exactly like her daughter’s as she ran a pleased gaze over Thea. “It’s about time that young rascal settled down. He’s a good lad, all in all, but needs a firm hand at the helm. You look like you can manage him.”
“She’s not herding sheep, Mater!” Gladys cried with an embarrassed laugh.
“All men need a firm hand,” Lady Byford countered.
Thea smiled. “I don’t think my husband will take well to guidance.”
“Nonetheless, you’ll manage your husband, I’m sure,” the countess declared. “And so will Gladys once she gets married, if any of these silly fools will ever get some sense and see what a treasure she is.”
Gladys blushed as red as Caroline’s ball gown. “Mater, please!”
“Well, it’s true. Not that Develin would have been right for her. I’m sure he’s a delightful husband, but she would never have been happy with him.”
“Mater!” Gladys pleaded.
Her mother shot her an unexpectedly sympathetic look. “Well, you don’t love him, never did and never would.”
Before Gladys could reply—if anyone could have replied to that—Lady Byford suddenly stiffened like a hound on the scent. “Come along, Gladys. We’d better get your father away from those young fools before he buys another horse from one of them! I’m positive Leamington-Rudney cheated him with that gelding.”
W
ith that, Lady Byford grabbed her daughter’s arm and marched off toward the little knot of men around the earl.
Thea was going to go after them until Dev joined her.
“I see you’ve met the countess,” he noted wryly.
“She’s a very forthright woman.”
“And very proud of her daughter. It’s a pity Gladys—”
“So, this is the mystery woman!” a slightly drunken voice interrupted from behind them.
Dev and Thea half turned to find a good-looking young man with curling golden locks and tight-fitting breeches, extravagant cravat and elegant jacket, as well as dark circles beneath his eyes and a slightly red nose, soddenly smiling and swaying.
“Good evening, my lord,” Dev said grimly. “May I introduce my wife? Theodora, this is Lord Leamington-Rudney.”
Notorious cad and decadent dandy, he wanted to add.
Thea ran her cool, steadfast gaze over the viscount, whose features and voice betrayed that he had already imbibed freely of wine even though dinner had yet to be served.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said, giving him the frostiest of smiles, suggesting she had the measure of the man without any help from her husband.
“Delighted to meet you, my lady,” the viscount said, reaching for her hand.
Dev had never wanted to smack a hand away more than when Leamington-Rudney grasped his wife’s and pressed his thick lips to the back of it. Thank God she was wearing gloves.
The duke’s butler—six foot six and built like a brick tower—appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is served!” he announced, much to Dev’s relief.
His relief didn’t last long, though, for the duchess had him take Caroline into the dining room and Leamington-Rudney escort his wife.
* * *
Thea spotted Dev watching her out of the corner of her eye. He’d been doing so often during the dinner, although whether he was pleased with her behavior or making sure she didn’t make a mistake or say the wrong thing, or was wondering how she was getting along with the ridiculous viscount beside her, she wasn’t sure. Her husband was alongside the duchess, with Caroline to his left and the Earl of Byford across from him. The countess was on the earl’s other side. The earl spoke loud and long about his last hunt while his wife seemed to be paying special attention to the place settings.
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