by Dayna Quince
So this was his fault? He grumbled as he followed them into the parlor and retook his seat. “So you won’t return to the manor?”
“It isn’t safe.” She shook her head.
Jonathan turned his gaze of frustration to Major Felton, who looked more than a mite confused.
“Does he know?” Jonathan turned back to Thea. Her scowl was all the answer he needed.
“Ah, I see you have not.” He turned back to the major candidly, “Thea is escaping an unwanted marriage to her cousin. I’ve met the fellow and he is a buffoon at best, so it is very understandable why she would want to run away—which is precisely what she did to attend Lucy’s wedding, and my family has been sheltering her ever since.”
“Jonathan!” Thea’s voice said shakily.
Jonathan ignored her.
“We moved her here because her family had come to fetch her from my parent’s home. They don’t know she’s here… yet.” Jonathan tossed over his shoulder at Thea. He kept his gaze locked on Major Felton. The man looked like he wanted to hit him. Not surprising given Jonathan’s behavior thus far, but the man deserved the truth.
He heard her retreating steps as she ran from the room.
“Was that necessary.”
“Completely.” Jonathan was tense, ready for a physical confrontation, but instead, the major resumed his own seat.
“She did not inform me of her family difficulties, but I don’t think it was your business to do so either.”
Jonathan sipped his tea and grimaced. “She’s grown too comfortable here. She thinks there is no danger as long as she stays here, but that isn’t true.”
“Her family is dangerous?” Major Felton asked.
“Well, not by the normal definition. I do not think they would do her physical harm, but until her twenty-first birthday, she cannot be found, or she will be forced to marry her cousin.”
“That is unfortunate.”
The major’s expression was unreadable. Jonathan sighed and swallowed the rest of his tea. “If you will excuse me.”
Jonathan paused by the kitchen to alert Mrs. Hale that he would be staying the night. It was too late in the day to risk a shivering ride back to the manor. He chose the only other open room besides the master bedroom. Coincidentally, it was next to Thea’s room. He leaned against the wall and used the boot jack to remove his boots. His stockings did little to dull the cold floor. He squatted before the hearth and lit a small fire. It was all he could manage until Mr. Hale arrived with more wood. He padded to the bed and sat back, folding his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples to push away the headache that wanted to anchor itself inside his skull. Damn Thea and her notions of independence. She was blind to the dangers surrounding her. She was foolish to think that staying here was enough to protect her. What about the future?
“Come in,” Jonathan bid when he heard the quiet knock.
“I’ve more wood to chase the chill away.” Mr. Hale bent near the fire and added a log.
“Thank you, Mr. Hale.”
“Will that be all, my lord?”
“Yes. I’m going to have a nap.”
“Yes, sir.” Mr. Hale retreated.
He needed a drink, but first, he would rest his weary head, and then tonight, he would make a grand campaign to convince Thea to return to the protection of his parents.
Chapter 10
Felton nodded as Lord Rigsby left the parlor. He stretched his jaw, the muscles sore from having clenched them so hard. So this was the man Thea spoke of with such familiarity. Felton didn’t like him. Not surprising given his desire to claim Thea for himself. Watching them be so cozy with each other was nauseating. But…she’d hidden the truth from him. It stung. After all they’d discussed, with all they’d shared… she’d kept one massive secret close to her heart. Why?
With Lord Rigsby present in the house, he could not go to her. All the freedom they had was now gone. The man was here to protect her, which Felton was thankful for, but what more did he want? Most importantly, did he want Thea for himself?
He needed to talk to Thea, to comfort her. She had been more than a little peeved when Lord Rigsby ousted her secrets. Felton could understand despite being left in the proverbial dark. Lord Rigsby had gone upstairs and would most likely be paying close attention to who went into which room. Which meant Felton would have no alone time with Thea, not unless they could escape into the outdoors.
Felton stood and approached the window. The clouds had grown thicker and darker. Snow was beginning to fall. He sighed. No refuge would be found there. They would be trapped together inside, the tension thick, and animosity between himself and Rigsby even thicker. Felton growled to himself and retired to his room. It was better than sitting in the parlor alone. At least, in the solitude of his room, he didn’t have to hide his black mood. He slipped into his room and began to shrug out of his coat.
“Wait!”
Felton turned. She was sitting by the fire.
“Are you mad?”
“Probably. Proximity to Lucy over the years has had its effect.”
“If he finds you here—”
“He’ll what? Throw a tantrum? Grumble and growl about my behavior and try to order me about?” Thea stood and paced angrily in front of the fire.
“He could challenge me.”
“I won’t let him.”
Felton scoffed. “And what could you do to stop him?”
“I… I don’t know.” Her shoulders slumped.
He was tempted to go to her, but if he did, then he’d be tempted to touch her and then…
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.” She drew near.
Felton folded his hands behind his back.
“He does have a point,” Felton said.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide.
“Thea…”
“Don’t you dare. I’ve heard enough lectures about the right things to do, the things that are best for me. For who, I ask you?”
“It’s all to protect you.”
“I am protected here. I certainly don’t need protection from you.” She poked his chest.
She was right. He’d die before hurting her, but that wasn’t the point.
“I’m tired of being told what to do. As if I don’t know what the dangers are? I’ve been told—repeatedly, what the danger is.”
Felton folded his arms over his chest. “Experiencing it firsthand can make quite the difference.”
She stopped her pacing and glared at him. “Are you dangerous to me?”
He mentally stumbled. His ego said yes, but his heart knew otherwise. What was he to say? He shrugged. Her eyes narrowed at him.
“You are no more a danger to me than he is. I know I can trust you, and I know I can trust him. So why all the brooding arrogance?”
“It isn’t we who pose the threat. It’s the knowledge of our presence here with you.”
“Gossip,” she growled.
“Yes, gossip.”
“The bane of polite society.” She began her pacing again.
Felton snorted. “A bit dramatic, but I hesitate to disagree. Much as I’d prefer Lord Rigsby had stayed away, he is in fact here, just down the hall, and it would be better for all parties if the peace were kept between us.” He walked to the door and put his hand on the handle.
“You’re tossing me out?”
His lips twitched. “Only for the time being. I’ll see you at dinner?”
Her lips pursed together, but then she strode toward him, arms straight at her sides and fists clenched.
“I’ll make sure the way is clear.” Felton opened the door a crack and peered into the hall. He opened the door wider, and Thea slipped through, her nose in the air.
He closed the door and grimaced.
Thea squeezed her fists tighter, feeling the bite of her nails in her palm with grim satisfaction. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry—wait, yes she could. Richard. Wh
en Richard had cornered her in the drawing room, her aunts having locked them in. She was so angry and yet so helpless at that moment. It could have been worse. He could have done things to her, but he’d looked at her with scorn and instead, poured himself another drink and fallen asleep on the settee. She was thankful. They’d meant to compromise her and force her hand. What they didn’t know was that the lock on the drawing room door was weak, and Thea knew exactly how hard to pull the knob to jerk the door open.
Her aunts hadn’t even bothered to wait outside. They were confident in Richard’s prowess. Thea had been confident in his inebriated snore. She’d sailed past the collection of nosy staff in the hall and went to her room, packed a valise, her secret stash of money, and left. She’d never looked back, never doubted her resolve, not even when she had to fend off the slimy attention of a man on the mail coach. She would never go back to Richard and her aunts, no matter what she had to do. She’d find a convent and take her vows if she had to.
Entering her room, she stared blankly at the walls around her as she paced, too agitated to settle in any one location. Damn Jonathan. He was putting his nose where it didn’t belong. Things had been so wonderful this morning, and he’d ruined it. She vented her unending frustration on the pillows, tossing them about the room and yanking the coverlet down. She kicked off her slippers and climbed onto the bed. She wasn’t tired. But there wasn’t anything else to do for the time being.
She lay down on her side. She wished Lucy were here. Lucy would know what to do. She’d send Jonathan away with a scathing set down, and she’d encourage Thea to spend all the time she wished with Felton—alone or otherwise.
But would Felton listen? He paid very little mind to Mrs. Hale’s obvious disapproval, but the moment Jonathan had arrived, he’d gone cold. She felt alone. She had no one to reach out to. All her friends were newly married or far away tending family. And Thea was here alone. Hiding from her own atrocious family and desperately needing someone to talk sense into her.
Before thinking better of it, she burst off the bed and yanked the bell pull. Now all she had to do was to wait.
It was only a moment before she heard a soft knock on her door.
“Come in.”
Marigold smiled softly as she entered the room and closed the door. Then she waited. “Yes?”
“I…” Thea felt like a fool. Marigold didn’t want to hear her problems.
She saw the maid frown, and then she surprised Thea by pulling a chair closer to the bed and sitting near where Thea was perched at the foot.
“You wish to talk,” she stated with her kind brown eyes.
“Yes?” Thea said in bewilderment. “How did you know?”
“A woman can tell these things. You’ve been through many changes since the wedding, and yet you have no one close to speak with.”
“I have you.”
“You can confide in me, Miss Manton.”
“Please call me Thea. We’ve enough secrets between us to dispense with formalities at this point.”
“I suspect you want to talk about Major Felton?”
Thea nodded. “These last few days have been wonderful, but since Lord Rigsby’s arrival this morning, it’s like he’s locked himself away behind a mask.”
“He is jealous?”
“He has admitted as much when I’ve spoken of Lord Rigsby, but he has nothing to be jealous of.”
“I would not be so certain. Men are very territorial. It’s part of their animal nature.”
“I’m not territory.” Thea scoffed.
“No, but he wants you, and he will be protective of you.”
Thea blushed. “He does?”
Marigold reached out and took her hand. “You are a true innocent. You are only just beginning to know what want is between a man and a woman. He wants you, and he suspects Lord Rigsby wants you, as well. He guards his heart because he is unsure of the return of his affections.”
“I think I’ve made myself clear regarding my affection.”
“Ah, you’ve shared intimacies?”
“Yes—no! Not that sort… He didn’t—we didn’t.”
Marigold giggled. “I understand.”
“We slept in the same bed most of the night. I didn’t know sleeping beside someone could be enjoyable.” Thea blushed harder, but a smile broke through her embarrassment as joy filled her with the memory of last night.
“But he must know I wouldn’t have done such a thing if I didn’t return his regard.”
“Yes, but men are possessive creatures.”
“You seem to know a lot about them.”
“I’ve dealt with my fair share. One must when you travel as I have.”
“You’ve traveled? I’d love to travel.” Thea sighed. There was much more to Marigold than it seemed. The woman was an exotic mystery. She knew Egypt was Marigold’s home country, but Lucy suspected Marigold wasn’t her real name and that she’d come from a noble family. Thea didn’t know what that meant, precisely.
“Not extensively. I had to work my away across many countries to get here.”
“Oh.” Thea wasn’t brave enough to ask more questions.
They were both quiet for a moment.
“I wish Lord Rigsby would leave,” Thea blurted.
“You do not like him?”
“I do, but I liked being alone with Major Felton more.”
“I thought you were going to marry Lord Rigsby after Lady Lucy married Lord Winchester.”
“It would have been the easiest course, wouldn’t it?” Thea sighed, remembering that awful morning when she’d thrown herself at the mercy of Lucy’s family—yet again. She was tired of using them as a shield. How much longer could they protect her? She needed a plan for the future. A way to protect herself.
“But?”
“What?” Thea was snapped out of her musings. She rubbed at the pain in her temples.
“I sensed there was more. Why don’t you marry Lord Rigsby? He is an honorable gentleman.”
Yes, yes he was. But he wasn’t Major Felton.
“That family has done so much for me already. I couldn’t ask them to sacrifice their own son—the heir to the earldom. He should have a great match befitting his station. Someone suitable to be a countess. That certainly isn’t me.”
Marigold patted her hand and stood. “You shouldn’t underestimate yourself. It’s almost time to get ready for dinner. Mrs. Hale is making a feast. Would you like a bath?”
Thea nodded. “Yes, please. Do you have more of that special oil? I feel a dreadful headache is taking root.”
“Yes.” Marigold stood at the door. “I will return in a moment.”
Chapter 11
Thea sat at the table in silence. They sat at three equal points around the circular table, spaced further than was warranted. The candle light flickered in the room, the curtains pulled tightly closed against the evening chill. The wind howled outside, but it wasn’t snowing anymore.
Thea was too angry for conversation. The gentlemen barely uttered a word between them, and the more it went on, the more she wanted to shout at them. What would Lucy do? She’d shout. No holds barred. She’d use every curse word in her vocabulary—which was extensive, and unleash her fury. But that was Lucy, and despite having spent so much time with her, Thea could only remember three curse words.
“Bloody, bullocks, and damn,” she muttered.
Jonathan snorted into his wine. “I beg your pardon?”
Felton was coughing now…or laughing?
Thea looked between them and glared. Her eyes settled on Jonathan. He was the most deserving of her anger. Something sparked in her memory.
“And bastard!” she said jubilantly. She remembered Lucy saying that one on more than one occasion.
“Thea, are you knackered?” He chuckled.
It infuriated her. He was laughing at her. His arrogance knew no bounds.
“No. It’s you. You are a—a bloody, bullocky—damn bastard!”
He scowled at her. “Do you understand what any of those words mean?”
“Yes…mostly.” She threw Felton a glare again. He was snickering into his napkin. There were tears in his eyes.
She set her fork down and folded her arms.
“To call me a bastard is to insult my mother,” Jonathan said.
“Oh. I’m sorry, then. I remove that one from the list. The rest still apply.”
“And what have I done to earn such a poorly executed insult?” He set down his wine and folded his arms, too.
“You know very well what you are doing. You’ve come here to manage me, like a little lost lamb. I’m not lost. I don’t need managing, least of all from you.”
“Then who will do it. You?” He laughed in her face.
“Yes!”
“Thea…”
“Don’t say my name like that, like you’re some weary father with his hellion daughter.”
“Oh, do I sound like my father?”
“Lucy may have been wild, but she knew what she was about, and so do I.”
“Lucy was lucky. All the trouble she fell into was solved by the name she carried. You don’t have that kind of luck.”
“Then why are you here trying to solve my problems. I didn’t ask you to be my champion, did I? In fact, I think I remember expressly refusing—”
“Don’t say it.” He lurched forward and clamped his hand over her mouth. She pushed him off.
“What the devil is wrong with you?”
“Should I leave?” Felton said stonily.
“That’s very obliging of you, yes,” Jonathan said.
“This concerns you, too.”
“It does?” Both men said.
“Yes, Felton…” Thea hesitated. “I was remiss in telling you all about my family. I didn’t want to speak of it, but it seems you will be dragged into this. For that, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t excuse your behavior, either.”
“My behavior?” He raised both brows.
“Since Jonathan arrived, you’ve been just as arrogant and pushy.”
“Because I agreed with him?”
“Precisely.” Thea nodded firmly. “Before that, we got along just fine, and now you won’t stay in the same room with me, and I’m very cross with you for it.” Oh, drat. Did she really just say she was mad because now they couldn’t spend the night together? His expression didn’t change. She looked back to Jonathan. He was frowning.