by Jane Feather
"Incorrigible," he said, sighing. "Utterly incorrigible."
They must have been seen from the house, because the bootboy came running down the steps. "Shall I take the curricle to the mews, m'lord?"
Sylvester regarded the lad, who didn't look more than ten, with a surprised frown. "Can you manage them?"
"Oh, yes, m'lord. I can, can't I, Lady Theo?"
"Yes, you need have no fear, Sylvester. Timmy's dad's the head groom at the vicarage in Lulworth, but his mother wanted him to be an inside servant, so he's languishing among the boots instead of with the horses. Which is where he'd rather be, isn't that so, Timmy?" She smiled at the lad as she jumped to the pavement.
"Oh, yes, ma'am," Timmy said with a heartfelt sigh. "But it'd break me mam's heart. Leastways, that's what me dad says."
"Of course, she wouldn't need to know what you do in London," Theo said thoughtfully. "What do you think, sir?"
"I think young Timmy should take himself to the stables and ask Don to put him to work," Sylvester pronounced, resigned to a role of simple reinforcement when it came to Theo's household decisions and dispositions.
"But what of Mr. Foster, sir?" The lad's eyes grew wide with the prospect of a dream fulfilled.
"I'm sure he can find another bootboy." He ushered Theo up the steps as Timmy, crowing with delight, led the horses away.
"A messenger brought you a letter, Lady Theo." Foster's jaw dropped at her ladyship's altered appearance.
"Oh, thank you, Foster." Theo smiled at him as she took the wafer-sealed paper.
"You'll forgive the personal comment, but…" Foster indicated her coiffure. "Most pleasing, Lady Theo."
"Thank you, Foster." She patted his arm. "You always do know the right thing to say."
His elderly face flushed with pleasure. "Get along with you, now, Lady Theo… Oh, Lady Gilbraith and Miss Gilbraith have gone to the physician on Harley Street. They took the barouche."
"Oh, that's wonderful." Theo's jubilant eyes flew to her husband's face. "I mean, I'm sure the physician will be able to help Miss Gilbraith's sniffles and her ladyship's liver… or whatever is troubling her." Her voice faded as she was about to find herself in realms of gross indelicacy.
"In that case we'll take nuncheon abovestairs in the little parlor," Stoneridge said into the moment of silence.
"Certainly, my lord. I'll see to it at once." Foster took himself off to the back regions with his usual stately tread.
"What if they return while we're… otherwise occupied?" Theo looked over her shoulder at Sylvester, her eyes now mischievous. Nuncheon in the little parlor could mean only one thing.
"Get upstairs," he ordered, pushing her ahead of him with a hand on her bottom. "Who's the letter from?"
"I don't know yet. I'll open it later." She skipped up the stairs, wondering if the message was from Neil Gerard. The handwriting was definitely masculine and unfamiliar. She hoped it was confirmation of their arrangement to drive tomorrow. If so, Sylvester mustn't know about it.
"I'll join you in a minute," Sylvester said, turning aside to his own chamber.
Theo hesitated, her hand on her own doorknob. "You're not still going to insist I go back to Stoneridge, are you?"
He regarded her thoughtfully for a minute before saying, "Can you give me your word of honor that you'll go nowhere and do nothing without my knowledge?"
Sylvester waited, then said quietly, "You have your answer, Theo." He stretched out a hand and tugged one of the ringlets clustering around her ears. "Don't look so disconsolate, love. You've been complaining about the boredom in London ever since we got here. I'll join you shortly, I promise."
She still had a few days to prove her point She shrugged, and with relief he took her silence as acceptance.
He ran his fingers upward through the curls, flicking them around her face, saying teasingly, "I'm beginning to get used to this. In fact, it's quite an appealing little gypsy, one way or another." Catching her chin, he kissed her. "Why don't you go and put on a wrapper… make life easy for me for once?"
Playfully she nibbled his bottom lip. "But surely one appreciates what's hard-won much more than what comes easily."
"I wouldn't know," he said. "So far nothing's come easily where you're concerned, so I have no basis for comparison."
"Unjust!" Her tongue darted into the corner of his mouth.
He put her from him and turned back to his door. "Five minutes, and I'll expect to find you prepared to smooth my path."
Theo grinned and whisked herself into her own bedroom, imagining how best to fulfill such a demand. Unbuttoning her jacket with one hand, she broke the wafer on the letter and unfolded the sheet. It was from Gerard, who would do himself the honor of calling upon her at ten the following morning, in the hopes that she would drive with him to Hampton Court if the weather was clement. Until then he was her obedient servant.
Theo refolded the letter and slipped it into a pigeonhole in her secretaire. Gerard couldn't have chosen a better venue for her purposes.
Throwing off the rest of her clothes, she slipped into a filmy wrapper of apple-green muslin edged with lace. Sitting before her dresser mirror, she brushed her hair, enjoying the novelty of her bared neck and the lightness of her head. Her sisters had given her a small vial of perfume on her wedding morning. She rarely used it because she was always in such a hurry to get dressed that such niceties tended to be forgotten, but now seemed like an appropriate occasion. Sylvester wanted her dressed for seduction, so that was what he should have.
She put a few drops behind her ears, at her throat, and on her wrists. Then, with a little smile, she applied the delicate fragrance behind her knees and on the inside of her thighs. Where else did Sylvester like to play? Her navel, the dimpled hollows in the small of her back, the high, arched insteps of her long, narrow feet.
Deciding she must smell like a whorehouse, she cast one last glance at her reflection before leaving the room and speeding barefoot down the corridor to the small parlor overlooking the rear garden, where they spent time when they wished to be private from the household.
Sylvester was already there, pouring wine into two glasses. "No cheese tarts, I'm afraid," he said as she came in. "But there's -" The words died on his lips. Slowly, he set the glasses back on the table, his eyes narrowed as he examined her.
Dark curls clouded around her face, softening her features in a way the plain, uncompromising plaits had never done; her cheeks were aglow, her eyes banked fires at midnight; the wrapper clung to every sinuous line of her body, the narrow girdle accentuating her waist and the slight flare of her hips. London and winter weather had done away with the tanned complexion, leaving her skin the color and texture of clotted cream.
"I really have lost my gypsy," he murmured. "But just look what I have in her place."
"What?" she said, stepping toward him.
"A most beautiful woman," he replied simply. "A wayward and unruly wife, but a most beautiful woman."
"Oh, don't scold," Theo protested, coming into his arms.
"It was a statement of fact, not a scolding," he said, smiling, running his hands down her body, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the delicate material, the ripple of muscle in her back as she reached against him.
"Take it off, Theo." There was a husky rasp to his voice, and he took a step backward from her.
Her eyes fixed on his face, she unfastened the robe and let it slip to the floor.
His eyes ran slowly down her body, devouring every inch of skin, the firm, jutting breasts, the dark nipples, growing hard and erect under his scrutiny, the flat belly, the cluster of dark curls at the apex of her long creamy thighs. Then he made a little circular motion with his forefinger, and she turned obediently. He gazed at the straight, narrow back, the pointed shoulder blades, the curve of her buttocks, the backs of her thighs, and the softness behind her knees.
He knew every inch of her body, and yet each time it was as if it were uncharted territory.
"Let's eat," he said into the silence, where lust quivered so thick one could almost touch it.
"Eat?" Theo spun round, astonishment and a touch of indignation in her eyes. "Now?"
"Now." He handed her a glass of wine, his own eyes filled with sensual amusement. "No," he said when she bent to pick up the discarded wrapper. "Stay just as you are. I want to enjoy you with my eyes for a while."
"I'm to eat naked?"
"Just so." He pulled out a chair for her. "You'll not be cold by the fire." He bent to kiss the nape of her neck as she sat down, and Theo shuddered with pleasure and anticipation.
This was something they had never done before. It felt most peculiar to sit naked in the room while he was fully clothed. Peculiar but most arousing. The fire lapped against her right thigh, and the embroidered seat of the chair was slightly scratchy under her bottom and thighs. She gave a little experimental wriggle.
Sylvester sipped his wine, watching her. "Open your thighs a little," he instructed softly.
Theo's eyes widened and her tongue touched her lips. She shifted again on the seat and bit her lip suddenly. "How can I eat?"
"You'll manage." He took another sip of wine and deliberately carved a slice from the breast of a cold chicken, placing it on her plate. "Pickled mushrooms?"
Theo nodded silently and he passed her the dish. She took a spoonful, her breasts brushing against the edge of the table as she leaned forward. Her nipples burned, and she sat back with a little gasp. "I can't do this, Sylvester."
"Yes, you can." He began to eat, watching her as he did so. "Tell me what you feel."
Theo took a mouthful of chicken, then gave up. This game had chased away all vestige of ordinary appetite. She leaned back in her chair, her breasts lifting on her rib cage. "Everything?" Her voice was low, her eyes a swirling riot of arousal.
"Everything."
Chapter Twenty-seven
"So you see, Edward, it won't be at all dangerous for either of us." Theo sat back in the swaying darkness of the carriage, bearing them to the Vanbrughs' rout party that evening.
Edward shook his head. "You are suggesting that you'll lead Neil Gerard into the maze at Hampton Court and get him to talk at gun point about Vimiera, while I hide behind a goddamned box hedge listening, so if he says anything incriminating, there'll be a witness? Theo, you have windmills in your head."
"It'll work," she said stubbornly. "He was at Vimiera, and he's behind these attacks on Sylvester. Now we just have to find out what really happened. Then we can tell Sylvester what we've discovered, and he can do what he wants with it. If it's enough to reopen the court-martial, then he can clear his name once and for all."
"But just why hasn't Stoneridge hit upon such a brilliant plan himself, if, as you're so certain, he knows that Neil Gerard is the man who's been trying to kill him?" Edward inquired with naked sarcasm.
"I don't know," Theo said as stubbornly as before. "I don't know because he won't tell me anything. But this will work – only there has to be an objective witness."
Edward sighed. "You're playing with fire, Theo. As badly as you were on Dock Street. And if Stoneridge sends you to live with his mother, I wouldn't blame him," he declared unequivocally.
"Oh, you're so infuriatingly priggish these days." Theo sat forward urgently, laying her hand on his satin-clad knee. "Nothing could be simpler. He wishes to drive to Hampton Court, and it's a perfect place. You be waiting on Curzon Street and simply follow us. Gerard will never notice a curricle behind him. And he won't notice anyone following in the general press of people at Hampton Court. My wanting to go into the maze will be the most natural thing in the world. There's no way he could harm me in such a place, and anyway, I'll be the one with the pistol."
"And what makes you think he won't be armed himself?"
Theo detected the beginning of a waver in her friend's opposition. "Why would he be? Besides, I don't think he's too clever."
"What makes you think that?" Edward asked glumly.
"If he had been, he'd have succeeded in killing Sylvester by now. He strikes me as thoroughly clumsy."
Edward couldn't find any argument to this terse rejoinder. However, he felt obliged to point out that even the not so bright and clumsy could be extremely dangerous. In fact, possibly more so, since they could be unpredictable.
"Yes, but we won't be in the least danger," Theo said impatiently. "How could we be, in such a circumstance?"
The carriage arrived at their destination, and Edward took advantage of the opportunity to delay his response. "I'll tell you at the end of the evening," he said, jumping down and reaching up his hand to help her alight. "But if you mention it again before we're in the carriage on the way home, I won't entertain the idea. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Edward," Theo said meekly, laying her hand on his arm, wondering why the men in her life had become such high sticklers.
Link boys were running up and down the street directing the press of carriages, and lights blazed from the open door at the head of a red carpet rolled over the pavement.
"Oh, dear," Theo said, "I do so hate these parties."
But Edward didn't seem to hear. He was trying to catch the eye of a tall gentleman in naval uniform some yards ahead of them under the awning as they proceeded to the entrance.
"Who is it?" Theo asked curiously, standing on tiptoe.
"I'm certain it's Hugo Lattimer," Edward said. "He was first lieutenant on the ship that brought me from Spain. Without his aid I'm sure I would have died. He gave me his cabin and slung his own hammock in the gun room. He was the soul of kindness, always ready to talk when I was really hipped, and his man Samuel nursed me as if I were a baby."
"Then I owe him my thanks," Theo declared. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called, "Lieutenant Lattimer, sir?"
The tall young man turned, piercing green eyes raking the startled throng. Theo, blushing as she realized the attention she'd drawn to herself, waggled her fingers at him.
"Theo! How could you?" Edward exclaimed in a fierce whisper, but the naval officer had stepped aside from the column and was waiting for them to reach him.
"Fairfax," he said warmly, extending his hand. "It's good to see you looking so well, man."
"Oh, I'm doing well enough, Lattimer. May I introduce the Countess of Stoneridge. Theo, this is Lieutenant… oh, no I beg your pardon, Captain Lattimer. I didn't notice the epaulets, Hugo. Congratulations."
"I do beg your pardon for shouting in that indecorous way, sir," Theo said. "But I was so infected with Edward's enthusiasm that I became carried away. He was saying how good you were to him on the voyage, and since he is my very best friend, I couldn't wait to meet you and thank you."
"Your very best friend?" drawled a pleasant, slightly husky voice. "Fairfax is indeed a lucky man."
"Well, there is my husband, of course," Theo said cheerfully. "But we are friends in a rather different fashion, you should understand, sir."
"Oh, I believe I do." The naval officer's slightly startled eyes shot toward Edward.
"Theo and I have known each other since nursery days, Hugo," he said.
"That would explain it," Hugo Lattimer said. "Are you recently arrived in London, ma'am?"
"It seems we've been here forever," Theo said, finding something very comfortable about this man. It wasn't just that Edward spoke highly of him, although that would have been enough, but there was a humorous spark in his eyes and a twist to his mouth, and when he laughed, as he did now, it was a rich, merry sound. He would be about twenty-five, she decided, a couple of years older than Edward.
"That tedious, eh?"
"Precisely, sir." Laughing with him, Theo entered the house and moved to the stairs to greet Lady Georgiana Vanbrugh.
She'd hoped to spend some more time with Edward's savior, hoped even for a dance, but to her disappointment Hugo Lattimer disappeared as soon as they'd reached the ballroom. She glimpsed him once or twice throughout the evening, standing against the
wall, a glass in his hand, and his expression had lost the cheerful spontaneity that had so appealed to her. In fact, he looked morose, and there were shadows in the green eyes.
She thought of approaching him herself, but there was now something strangely forbidding about him, as if he were constructing a thicket around himself.
"Captain Lattimer doesn't seem to be enjoying himself," she observed to Edward when they'd met up with Elinor and her sisters and were sitting in the supper room.
"I've never yet met a naval officer who's content when he's waiting for a new command," Edward said. "They exist on half pay and haunt the Admiralty, and twiddle their thumbs the rest of the time."
"Mmm." Theo didn't sound convinced.
"He drinks a great deal," Edward said somewhat reluctantly. "Not while he's sailing, but as soon as he's in port. I was with him at Southampton, when we landed. There's something that troubles him. He calls them painted devils."
"Oh," Theo said. "Invite him to join us, Edward."
"I don't think that's wise, Theo," Elinor said, glancing at her older daughters. "If the gentleman chooses to keep himself to himself, then we should respect that"
Her mother meant that she didn't want any inebriated visitors at her table, Theo knew, but she said no more.
As they were leaving, however, Hugo Lattimer came over to them. There was brandy sweetness on his breath and just the faintest fog in his eyes, but his voice was perfectly steady, and he was entirely coherent as he told Edward that he had a new command, a frigate on the stocks at Portsmouth. He was going down to see to her fitting in the morning, so it was farewell to Society for what he hoped was a very long spell.
He took his leave of the Countess of Stoneridge with the same easy humor of before, declined a ride in their carriage, and walked off into the night.
"You'll see Theo home, Edward," Elinor said, stepping into her own carriage.
"There's no need," Theo said. "Tom Coachman can convey me home perfectly safely. I'm sure Edward would prefer to see Emily home. There's room for him in your carriage if you all squeeze up."