‘It might as well be. Unless the woman proves more willing than she has, I feel a moral obligation not to act on my desires, despite what the physical side of me might feel.’ He glared at the earl again. ‘Hence the bees. I am stuck with an arm up to the shoulder in the hive, the honey is on my fingers and I do not dare stick them in my mouth. Damn you, and damn the woman as well for being as sweet as she is.’
Spayne laughed at him, showing no mercy whatsoever for his difficulties. ‘Mark my words, boy. The time will come soon enough when the prospect of getting stung will not be enough to stop you from a taste. And when it does, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Neither of you will come to harm by following your hearts.’
‘Brave words from a man who should know better,’ Jack said bitterly and tossed back the last of his drink. ‘The sooner I am done with this and gone away, the better. Although it is vexing at the moment, in the future I will see that the girl is right to reject me. In the meantime, the safest course will be to keep my hands to myself.’
Chapter Seven
The return trip to London was quite different from the outbound trip, with none of the sparring and megrims of the day before. Spayne saw them off after a hearty breakfast with a promise to follow as soon as they could assure him of a real need for his presence, since he refused, even now, to spend any more time than was necessary in the same town with his brother.
But this left Thea alone with her husband. And despite the tenderness of the previous evening, there existed a kind of wary silence between them as though neither could decide upon the next move. At least today he was not whistling, apparently having decided to fall back on the part of Kenton so as not to provoke her.
In turn, she chose to behave as she thought Lady Kenton would, polite and reserved, receiving his courtesies as though they were sincere and responding to them with respect. It made the trip easier, as well as her re-introduction to the servants at the Kenton town house. It was clear that they held their master, if he was such, in a sort of awe. He might as well have been the Duke of Wellington, for the scraping and bowing of the footman, the rigid posture of the butler, round-eyed looks he got from the matronly housekeeper and the flounced skirts and pouting lips of the housemaids, which he magnanimously ignored.
She would have thought that, if a common actor was given such utter devotion from a gaggle of young ladies, he’d have taken advantage and worked it to his own ends. But from the disappointed looks on some of the faces, it was clear that he had no dalliances, no favourites, no scandals, and had done nothing to render his image any less shiny.
It seemed he meant to play Kenton as the sort of honourable gentleman that one hoped for but seldom saw in true society.
Then she remembered the way he had treated her on the previous two evenings. She had been convinced he was nothing more than Jack Briggs, once the bedroom door had closed and the facade could be dropped. And yet, though she would hardly call him polite, she had felt no fear for her virtue, or the sense that he might try to trick her into an intimacy she did not welcome. While not always to her liking, his actions were at least totally sincere.
But for the moment, he was being Kenton. And Kenton disappeared into his study, once they were through with the formalities. It was not her job to question what her husband did with his time, if he did not choose to spend it with her. He had requested that his man of business be sent for and was assured that the previous day’s mail awaited him on his desk, just as he liked it. It appeared that spinning wild tales of India in London ballrooms was only a facet of what his life had become since Spayne had found him. The rest, though mundane, was carried out with the same care and diligence.
And she had her job to do as well. She gave a few hurried instructions to the cook and housekeeper about dinner and a warning that there would be plans for a ball. Then she retired to the grand rooms provided for her use, which adjoined the master’s bedroom.
Once there, she found that her maid, Polly, had followed from her old home and was laying out a familiar day dress on the unfamiliar counterpane. It was a change she should have welcomed. Had she not been waiting for years to be truly out from under the roof of her parents, starting a new life in a house of her own? But if that was true, then why did she feel something not unlike vertigo, as though her whole life had slipped violently to one side, trying to throw her off balance? And why was a tear rolling down her cheek?
Without a word, the maid offered her a handkerchief. Thea returned a wet smile of gratitude. ‘I do not know what’s come over me.’
‘Nothing to fear, your ladyship.’ Polly gave a little grin as she said the carefully rehearsed honorific, which was another reminder that she was no longer Miss Cynthia Banester. ‘It comes over brides sometimes like this. At least my sisters say so, for they are both out of the house and properly married. It is a very big change, after all.’
‘You have no idea,’ Thea said.
‘Might I suggest a visit with your mother? It’ll be a great comfort.’
Comfort was the last thing she imagined when speaking with Antonia. Over the years, she had spent more time soothing her mother’s nerves than receiving comfort. But she surprised herself by saying, ‘That would be nice.’ And once she decided upon going, it did seem like the only answer. In the carriage, she found her emotions even more tumultuous than they had been at Kenton House. By the time she reached her parents’ doorstep, she was touching her face regularly with the damp handkerchief. And at the first sight of her female parent, Thea could not help herself. She launched herself into her mother’s arms, weeping like an infant with a wail of ‘Mother’.
‘My dear,’ the woman responded, gathering her close. For all her foolishness over some things, her affection was genuine and Thea welcomed it now. ‘Whatever is the matter? And why are you not on your honeymoon? I did not expect to see you back in London for some weeks.’
‘Honeymoon.’ She let out a fresh wail, trying to remind herself that the lack of such had been more of a narrow escape than a denial of reward. ‘There will be no honeymoon. Because there is no marriage. My husband is not truly Kenton.’
‘I do not understand. Is he cruel? Did he hurt you?’ Her mother pushed her away, searching her face and arms for signs of abuse.
Thea shook her head. ‘He is not even real. He is an actor, pretending to be a gentleman.’
She felt her mother stiffen and glance hurriedly around the hall to be sure that they had not been overheard. Then she pulled Thea into the drawing room and shut the door.
‘We are alone. Now quickly, tell me all. What did Spayne have to say on the matter? Or did you not go to his house as you were planning?’
‘He knew all along. It is terribly complicated.’
‘Well, then, there is nothing to worry about.’ She could feel her mother slump in relief. ‘If Spayne acknowledges him, then who will dare to doubt? And if we know it? What is a little secret between families?’
‘You do not mean to tell me that you approve?’ Thea pushed away from her. It was just the sort of morally suspect advice she should have expected from her mother.
‘It is simply that I admire a part well played,’ her mother said with no little awe. ‘I never would have suspected him. And I, of all people, should be able to spot a false coin. He acts as grand as any viscount of my acquaintance, and I have known a good number. Although he is more personable and more handsome than most,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But those are hardly faults, my dove.’
‘He tricked me,’ Thea said indignantly. ‘He has no money and no name.’
‘Neither do you,’ her mother replied. ‘I believe you were perpetrating a similar trick upon him when you forced him to offer for you.’
‘It was not the same at all,’ Thea insisted. ‘He did this for money. And I was trying to save my family’s honour.’
‘I really do not know why you bother, little one,’ her mother said, honestly puzzled. ‘This is but a temporary annoyance, I am sure. We will come ri
ght, one way or the other. If all else fails, I will take to the stage again.’
‘Nooooo.’ It was an old threat and seemed to return, like a nightmare, whenever things looked darkest. ‘You will ruin me, Mother. No decent man would marry the daughter of an actress.’
‘You are married already,’ her mother reminded her. ‘Therefore it is no longer an issue. Now tell me...’ she leaned closer ‘...is the mock Lord Kenton as much a stallion as he appears? Or is that an act as well?’
‘Mother!’ She looked around, worried, even in the privacy of her old home, that someone might have heard the question.
Her mother scoffed. ‘You needn’t fuss so. Now that you are a married woman, you are allowed to be more candid about such things. You are still so skittish, one would think...’ A cloud of suspicion crossed her face. ‘You are still acting like a schoolgirl, Cynthia. Tell me you did not deny your husband his marital rights?’ Her mother was looking at her in shock, her tone outraged. It almost made Thea feel that she had done something wrong.
‘He is not my husband, Mother,’ she said emphatically.
‘If not he, then who?’
‘No one, I suspect.’ Although she was still not totally sure. ‘There was a ceremony, of course,’ she added doubtfully, ‘but it can hardly be called legal.’
‘And do you expect us to take him before the courts, tell the whole truth and ruin the reputations of everyone involved, including your own?’
There would be no way to sort it out legally without revealing everything. ‘I suppose there is no way that the blame can fall only on Jack,’ she said with a sigh.
‘You are quick to wish that on him. You liked him quite well enough a few days ago.’
‘That was before I knew who he really was,’ she said testily.
‘And every bride, since the beginning of time, has said something similar after the knot was tied. Most of them not as early as you, of course,’ her mother added with a shrug. ‘But all of us, even I, have sometimes looked at the man we married and wondered what in the world possessed us.’
‘You and Father?’
‘Of course,’ her mother said with a surprised smile. ‘The man bartered away everything we owned for a dusty doll with too many arms to be Christian. On the day I realised what he had done, could you blame me for doubting?’ And then she smiled again. ‘But we muddle on, my dear. We all muddle on. A disappointment is not the end of the world. Nor is it the end of the marriage. Sometimes, it is the beginning of true understanding.’
‘And how could that be?’
‘After a few short days of acquaintance, you know your husband for who he truly is.’
‘He is a liar,’ Thea said in disgust.
‘All men are. And not as good at it as they think. We women are forced to look the other way and pretend that we are fooled. But we know the truth. Jack owned his untruths on the very first night.’ Her mother smiled. ‘It is quite an achievement on your part. You unravelled all his secrets while he was still fully dressed. Were you wearing the nightdress I selected for you?’
‘That is immaterial.’ As was the gown, or very nearly. And it reminded Thea that Jack Briggs knew far more about her person than a stranger should. ‘You talk as if you expect me to forgive him.’
Her mother thought for a moment. ‘I expect you to give him a fair hearing. And to pay attention to how he treats you, now that you know the worst.’
‘I do not think he likes me very much,’ Thea admitted, almost in a whisper. It had been easy to dismiss that yesterday, when she’d thought him the worst man in the world. But after last night, she was not sure.
‘Have you given him reason to dislike you?’
Other than denying him her bed? And why was that making her feel so guilty when it was the most sensible decision she could have made? ‘I am often short tempered with him,’ she admitted.
‘Then try to be sweeter,’ her mother said, as though this would solve all.
‘There is no amount of sweetness that will make up for our differences. I suspect he would much rather have married you. He saw you on stage once, but he did not recognise you until I admitted the truth,’ Thea added with more than a little relief.
‘He knows of me?’ her mother said, totally missing the point of the problem.
‘He seemed quite...impressed,’ Thea admitted, remembering the dazed look that had come over Jack as he’d thought of Antonia Knowles.
‘I knew that he was a sweet boy,’ her mother said, pleased again. ‘You should be kind to him, if for that alone.’
‘But it does not solve the problem at hand. He thinks he will be able to trick de Warde out of the money he has taken from Father. What if he wants me to help him? I am no actress, Mother. And an actress is what his plans are likely to need.’
‘A pity, but ’tis true,’ her mother agreed. ‘You really are quite hopeless, Thea. And it is my fault for trying to raise you to be so much my opposite. But do not fear. Do the best you can. And if it is impossible, then you must come to me for help.’
‘I am sure that will not be necessary,’ Thea said, dreading what that help might entail.
‘In any case,’ her mother said, glancing in the mirror as though to be sure her reflection was still as fetching as it had always been, ‘you and Kenton must visit, if only so that we might speak of old times.’
‘Of course,’ Thea said, vowing that she would do nothing of the kind.
Chapter Eight
When Viscount Kenton announced that he wished a ball to honour his happy marriage to his lovely new wife, the house threw itself into the preparations with vigour, polishing silver and dusting chandeliers that already gleamed with careful tending, handing Thea suggested menus and already prepared guest lists, all awaiting little more than her suggestions and approval.
It had been explained to her in school that being the lady of a great house was no different than being the general of an army. And her troops were properly marshalled and eager for battle, after too many years of peace and quiet.
It was some consolation to know that, when Jack was gone, she would keep her place here until she remarried. Before they’d left Spayne Court, the earl had pulled her aside and reiterated that her place as dowager was secure. Once her mourning had passed she could entertain as often as she liked.
If there was the money for it, of course. She must trust that Jack’s plan, whatever it was likely to be, would turn out successful and that the fresh string of debts she was accruing could be paid in the near future.
But when she was dowager, Thea doubted that she would wish to stay here. Lacking a master, the house would be rather lonely, no matter how fine the hospitality. During the day, there was a lack of closeness between them that, while understandable, kept the house from being as warm and pleasant a place as it might have been.
But he greeted her each evening at dinner with a kiss on the cheek. And over a fine meal he would regale her with his adventures in India. Though she knew them to be complete fictions, they were no less entertaining than they had been. Sometimes more so, for now she asked questions that might lead him into greater and more amusing fictions, and she never found him at a loss for words. It was really most diverting. When they retired to their separate rooms, they parted amicably. Kenton gave such life to the house that she would quite miss him when he died.
She stopped in mid-breath at the thought, confused as to how he had managed to bedazzle her, just as he had the staff. In just two short weeks, she had come to accept him as the man he pretended to be.
She could not miss a man that did not exist. When Jack Briggs pretended to die and Kenton disappeared, the house must be empty of her as well, no matter what the earl had promised. To entertain here at all would be awkward, for she was unsure how long she could keep up the pretence that she was anyone’s widow. The whole truth would likely come pouring out of her with the first glass of champagne. Better to remove quietly to the country and do her best to forget that any of this had happen
ed. But first she must get through her partner’s scheming with as much grace and as little participation as possible.
Now it was the night of the ball and Jack still had not told her what he planned to do. For her part, she meant to smile and nod and do nothing that might give the game away. If she did not interfere, she could not spoil the result and it would be over all the quicker. Then her life could return to something akin to what it had been before that fateful night in the gazebo.
She was wearing her best new gown, a pale-gold silk overlain with embroidered net and banded with satin. The effect must have been spectacular. When Jack saw her, his careful composure faltered and he stood in the connecting doorway between their rooms as though frozen in place, his mouth slightly open in amazement.
‘Does it suit?’ she asked, giving a half turn and pretending that his reaction had not pleased her.
‘Oh, I say. Yes, it does.’ He did not seem to be looking at the dress at all, but the generous, expansive
cleavage displayed above it.
‘I should hope so. It cost you dearly. Or it cost someone. I expect you will be long gone by the time the reckoning for it comes.’
‘I suppose I shall be.’ He said it with a sigh that almost sounded sincere, but he was still ignoring the dress and focusing on her exposed skin.
She laid a hand across her bosom to obstruct his view. ‘If we are to go through with this, you had best stop ogling me. We are supposed to be married, you remember. You have seen me before.’
‘Even so, I would still enjoy looking at you.’ To put her at her ease, he looked up into her face. ‘Tonight, we must be sure that others look at you as well. Let us decorate you in a way that will have de Warde’s full attention. Although I suspect the old lecher will be giving you enough of that, even without the Spayne emeralds.’ He produced a padded jewel box from behind his back, stepped forwards and set them on her dressing table. ‘Stand still a moment and let me help you.’ He opened the box to reveal a parure of brilliant green cabochons. There was a necklace of chained
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