Thea was farther down the table and farther still from Gladys, who was mostly ignored by the two young men seated on either side of her. She’d met bakers’ boys and blacksmith’s apprentices with better manners, at least when it came to acknowledging others in their company.
Dev, however, was attentive and polite to all—a gentleman in every sense of the word. Unlike her, he clearly belonged there among the ton, and not only because of his wealth, his title, his bearing and his handsome features.
“So, where have you been hiding all this time?” the viscount asked Thea after taking another drink of wine.
He was already drunk and would likely be found passed out in an anteroom before the evening ended. The only difference between him and the men she’d encountered who frequented more lowly gaming establishments and pubs was his wealth, and she supposed the viscount might one day find himself sharing a fate similar to her father’s if he didn’t see the error of his ways.
That did not mean she was any more inclined to treat him gently when he put his hand on her knee and said, “If I had known you existed, I would have given Dundrake some competition.”
She shoved his hand away and regarded him sternly. “Do that again, and you’ll regret it.”
The viscount made what she supposed he considered a contrite smile, although he really looked more like a grimacing monkey. “You’re that sort, are you?”
“If you mean the sort that finds such actions annoying, yes, I am.”
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You meant something else, I’m sure—something I would consider abhorrent. Now, unless you want me to stab you with my fork, I suggest you keep your distance.”
“Oh, you don’t mean...” he began with a lopsided grin before he got a good look into Thea’s angry eyes.
After all, she was no gently reared innocent. She’d retrieved her father from some very dubious establishments where more than one patron had assumed she was a fallen dove looking for a customer and approached her accordingly, only to discover Thea was quite capable of defending herself with her sharp tongue, a slap or a blow from her reticule. Several had retreated with both bruised pride and a stinging cheek.
The viscount cleared his throat, then turned away to address the older woman on his other side, who seemed quite flattered by his attention.
“Pray tell us, Lady Dundrake,” the duchess’s daughter suddenly demanded, “how did you meet Sir Develin?”
Although Lady Caroline was regarding Thea as if she were some sort of bizarre, exotic species, Thea gave her a serene smile. “We met in a garden. It was quite romantic, I assure you.”
The duchess sniffed with disdain, while Caroline turned to look at Dev. “It sounds like something from a fairy tale. Was it truly that romantic, Sir Develin?”
Her husband smiled at Thea in a way that made her blood rush. “Yes, it was.”
If only that were true.
“How charming,” Lady Caroline coldly remarked before giving all her attention to the next course the footman set before her.
No one else said anything directly to Thea for the rest of the meal. In some ways, that was a relief; in another, she wondered if she should have been less forceful.
Just when she was beginning to wonder if the dinner was ever going to end, the duke tapped his wine glass and got to his feet. “My lords, ladies and gentlemen, a toast! To my son, the young Apollo! He is coming home at last!”
Thea raised her wine glass, and as she did, she glanced at Gladys. Her friend was sitting completely, uncharacteristically still, as if she’d been turned to marble. Only when everyone raised their glasses did she seem to wake up and reach for hers. Then, with great deliberation as if she were performing a very tricky medical maneuver, Gladys sipped her wine and put her glass down on the table, then folded her hands in her lap.
“I say, Your Grace,” one of the impolite young men beside Gladys called down the table. “Did Paul—I mean, did Apollo say when he’d be arriving?”
“By All Saints’ Day,” the duke said, beaming, “if not sooner.”
With a swish of silk, the duchess rose. “Shall we, ladies?” she said, signaling it was time for them to retire to the drawing room.
Thea dutifully complied, although she would rather have ventured into any gambling hell in London or Liverpool. At least there, she would have been prepared for overt curiosity and insolence rather than facing the more subtle gibes and inquisition of supposedly gently reared ladies.
* * *
The duchess pounced as soon as Thea entered the drawing room.
Standing beside a magnificent, brightly polished ebony pianoforte, her expression snide, the duchess called out to Thea, “Lady Dundrake, won’t you favor us with some music? We have a lovely instrument.”
Thea gave her a placid smile in return. “So I see. However, I’m sure my skills are very poor compared to others here. I daresay your daughter is a far superior pianist.”
“Perhaps she could accompany you while you sing?”
“I cannot sing very well, either. Nor can I play the harp.”
“If it’s music you wish, I’ll oblige,” Gladys said with unexpected vim and determination. She sat down at the pianoforte before anyone could protest and immediately launched into a very loud and spirited rendition of a very complicated air, her mother smiling as if they were in a concert hall.
The duchess moved away in a huff and as soon as Gladys had finished her piece, Caroline took her place, playing an equally complicated ballad.
The countess loudly complimented her daughter, who smiled, then hurried to join Thea.
“You play very well,” Thea said to Gladys when her friend reached her.
“Considering the amount my parents have spent on good teachers, I should,” Gladys admitted ruefully. She held out her hands and spread her long, slender fingers. “It’s good to know large hands can be good for something, if not particularly attractive. Mind you, I do wish my mother wouldn’t carry on as if I’m a prodigy.”
“She’s justly proud of you.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s embarrassing nonetheless,” Gladys said. She nodded toward the piano. “Caroline has very pretty hands. That’s why she prefers to play the harp in company. She’s a rather competitive person. I keep wondering if she’ll say anything to you about...”
“About my marriage to Develin?” Thea suggested after Gladys fell guiltily silent.
Gladys nodded vigorously, loosening a lock of thick brown hair that she hastily tucked behind her ears.
“Did Caroline have hopes of marrying Develin?”
“I suppose I really shouldn’t say anything. I’m not a mind reader, after all, to know how anybody else really feels. I hardly know how I feel half the time.”
Thea could sympathize with that sensation.
“So I can’t expect to really understand how Caroline feels, and especially where love’s concerned. It’s not as if I have any experience in the matter.”
Thea suspected that was not precisely true. Given Gladys’s reaction to the duke’s announcement, she might be as familiar with unrequited love as Thea had been. “Do you think Caroline had any reason to believe Develin wanted to marry her?”
Gladys frowned, obviously considering, before she said, “If you mean did your husband ever show any particular partiality toward Caroline, no. Not that I ever saw. He was polite, of course, and kind, as he is to everybody. But if Caroline didn’t want him, her mother certainly wanted them to marry. Develin was the best catch in the county.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of eligible young men who’d make a good husband for Caroline.”
Gladys sighed. “Not that her mother approves of. She’s always favored Caroline, probably to make up for the duke favoring Paul, so Mater says. And Carolyn might have
got her hopes up because her brother and Develin were such good friends. He was here often and I suppose, if one is young and pretty, one could hope that a friendship with a brother might extend to a sister and turn into something else. And Develin does have much to recommend him, as you well know. Caroline wouldn’t be the only young lady who would be disappointed when she found out he was married.”
Thea wondered if she’d made a mistake about Gladys’s feelings. “Did you...?”
“Oh, dear me, no! Not I!” Gladys cried, and she couldn’t have looked more startled if Thea had pinched her. “I mean, Develin’s a very nice man and good-looking, of course, but he’s not my sort at all! I prefer a quiet life in the country, while he spends most of his time in London. I hate dancing, I’m a dunce at cards and, well, most dinner parties are an exercise in anxiety for me, while he likes balls and cards and dinner parties.”
Develin had seemed content to be in the country, but then, they hadn’t been there very long. Perhaps he was secretly yearning to return to Town. Maybe that explained some of his somber moods.
There was one other thing Lady Gladys had mentioned that caught Thea’s attention. “Develin is good at cards?” she asked as if she didn’t already know the answer.
“Oh yes. The best cardplayer at school, so I heard, and I gather he’s won a few tidy sums in the city. Not that anybody talks about where he plays or with whom.” She patted Thea’s gloved hand. “He doesn’t venture into the worst places, I’m sure. And there are other places he could go where there aren’t any cards, if you follow me, but he never does, or so the other gentlemen claim when they think nobody’s listening. Dear Papa is quite good at looking like he’s half-asleep, but I assure you, he knows all the antics the young gentlemen get up to. That’s why he’s often said he’s glad he had a daughter, not a son, even though I don’t doubt he would have liked an heir.”
“I’m sure you’ll marry one day and then he can look forward to a grandson.”
Her friend blushed and she looked down at the hem of her gown. “I doubt that. I do own a mirror and I can see perfectly well with my spectacles on. I’m not exactly a young man’s dream.”
“You have much to offer any man wise enough to see it,” Thea said sincerely.
“That’s easy to say when you have brains and beauty, too. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really ought to make sure Mater’s not getting overheated,” Gladys replied before she moved toward her mother, who was now seated near the hearth.
Thea bit her lip in consternation. She hadn’t meant to upset Gladys. She truly believed many men would be fortunate to have such a kindhearted woman for a wife. Perhaps the duke’s son would—
“Proud of yourself, are you?” a voice hissed in her ear.
She turned to find Caroline behind her.
“What did you do to make him marry you?” the duchess’s beautiful daughter demanded in a harsh whisper.
Despite her scornful tone, Thea saw something other than disdain in her eyes, something that made her sympathetic heart go out to the young woman.
“I didn’t make him marry me,” she replied with quiet compassion, but firmly, too. She could feel sorrow for Caroline, but she wasn’t about to apologize for her marriage.
“You trapped him somehow and married him for his money!”
Some would say Caroline’s charges were true, but they wouldn’t know the whole truth. Not even Develin knew all of the truth. “If my husband had wanted to marry you, he could have done so before he ever met me. He did not.”
Caroline drew back as if she’d struck her. “He would have! One day he was going to see how I felt and realize...and see...he could have loved me. But you came along and tricked him. Or seduced him. Whatever you did, you don’t deserve him and I hope you die!”
As Thea stared, dumbfound by her ferocity, Caroline covered her mouth with her hand and hurried away.
* * *
Dev realized something was wrong with Thea the moment he entered the drawing room. She was as pale as a new moon. He hurried to her and anxiously asked, “Are you ill?”
“No, no, I’m quite all right,” she replied.
“You don’t look all right.”
To his relief, the color returned to her cheeks as well as the vitality to her eyes. “I have no intention of rushing away from this dinner party.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite!”
“Very well, then,” he said. “We’ll stay.”
But he would find out who or what had upset her as soon as they were back at Dundrake Hall.
Where they would not be interrupted.
Chapter Ten
Wearing one of her soft and pretty new nightgowns, Thea stood by the fireplace in her bedroom after returning from the duchess’s dinner party. She and Dev had journeyed home in silence, although she’d been sure Dev had wanted to ask her questions. More than once she’d caught him regarding her with an inquisitive look, yet thankfully he never spoke.
Wrapping her arms about herself, Thea stared into the flickering flames, the only illumination in the room. The dinner party had been more exhausting than she’d expected and not only because of the late hour. It was wearying making polite conversation and fatiguing trying not to notice the curious stares and speculative whispers. At least Gladys had forgiven her for any dismay she’d caused talking about marriage. To Thea’s relief, she’d rejoined her later and chatted quite genially about the food the duchess had served. Several of the dishes—squab and oysters and sumptuous pastries—were only a few of the excellent offerings. Clearly the duchess was keen on impressing her guests with the menu, and she’d certainly succeeded.
As for any other friendships that might have begun that evening, Thea feared the enmity of the duchess and her daughter rendered that unlikely. Fortunately she’d been right to think people wouldn’t be willing to snub her husband, no matter what they thought of her.
But who wouldn’t want to be his friend? He was charming to everyone, including Lady Caroline and her mother, so it was no surprise to learn that Caroline had wanted to marry him. Yet as she had said to that upset young woman, he had had his chance to marry someone else before he ever met her.
A soft knock sounded on the door leading to Develin’s dressing room. “My lady? Thea? May I come in?”
It was Develin.
She glanced at the woolen bed robe over the nearby chair and left it there. “You may.”
The door opened and her husband, still clad in his evening clothes save for his jacket and cravat, entered the room. She stayed where she was and he walked over to join her, his face bronzed by the firelight, his eyes deep in shadow.
“It was obvious something was amiss when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies tonight,” he said, holding up his hand to stop her before she could deny it. “There’s no point trying to tell me otherwise. Did the duchess say something to distress you?”
“Her venom is easy to dismiss,” Thea replied with a shrug.
“Did Leamington-Rudney make lewd remarks? Or try to touch you?”
“There’s nothing that vain puppy could say that I haven’t heard before,” she answered honestly. Indeed he was a rank amateur in lewdness compared to some of the men she’d encountered. “He did put his hand on my knee at dinner. He quickly removed it when I threatened to stab him with my fork.”
“That...!” Develin rolled his shoulders as if physically trying to subdue his emotions. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”
“I would have done it, too, I assure you.” She frowned and clasped her hands. “I realize it wasn’t very ladylike to threaten him and perhaps I should have restrained myself, but I’ve had to take care of myself for a long time, in some rather dangerous situations, so I did what came naturally.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he returned. “I was
proud of you tonight and I’m even prouder to hear that you’re willing and able to protect yourself.”
Despite his welcome praise, a small wrinkle of puzzlement appeared between his dark eyebrows. “If it wasn’t Leamington-Rudney or the duchess who upset you, did I do or say something to cause you distress tonight?”
“No, it wasn’t anything you said or did.” She decided to tell him what had happened in case there were repercussions she couldn’t foresee. “Caroline is quite upset with me. She seems to believe you were going to ask for her hand.”
“No, never,” he instantly replied, shaking his head. “Not even if I’d fallen into that little trap they set in the—”
He cleared his throat and said no more.
She wasn’t about to let him stop there. “What sort of trap? And who set it?”
Dev ran his hand through his thick, waving hair, disheveling it completely, before he answered. “It was at their last ball. Caroline got me alone in the garden and tried to persuade me to kiss her. I refused and then her uncle appeared like a genie from a bottle. He might have been intending to declare I’d sullied her honor and so would have to marry her. If that was the plan, I could more easily believe her mother was behind it, not Caroline. She certainly seemed surprised by her uncle’s arrival.”
“She might be a better actress than you give her credit for, or more desperate,” Thea said. Who knew better than she the lengths to which one might go for love?
“Whatever she thought was between us, she shouldn’t have threatened you,” he said. “I’ll go over there in the morning and—”
“There’s no need,” Thea interrupted. “I understand that she’s disappointed and the news of our wedding came as a shock. Surely in time Caroline will come to accept our marriage. After all, she’s a lovely young woman and rich and titled, so she’ll have her pick of other worthy young men.”
A Marriage of Rogues Page 12