Vernon paused in his ministrations. ‘Rosalind? Disapproving? Thea, sweetheart, if that is what you are worrying about, let me tell you that Rosalind is the least judgemental person I know.’
‘Oh. And what about the Duke?’
Vernon grinned at her reflection and saw an answering smile quiver at the corner of her luscious lips. Lips he longed to kiss.
‘Rosalind has worked wonders on him since their marriage. He is learning to have more fun and to take himself less seriously. Being a duke can be lonely, but he finally has someone to share the burden.’
‘But...how long have they been married? I thought they have adult children.’
‘A month. And Leo does have adult children. Three of them. Their mother died when they were young. Thea... I have not come here to discuss Leo and Rosalind, I have come to talk about us. But, first, where did that gown come from?’
‘Malky got one of the maids to pack a bag for me. Bickling brought it with him.’
He had not known. He was pleased, for Thea’s sake, she had a gown to wear this evening. He could not care less what she wore, but she had already proved to him that she did care.
‘I like you in that colour. It suits you.’
She blushed. ‘I’m sure anything is preferable to what you are used to seeing me wear.’
‘My preference,’ Vernon said, ‘is to see you naked. Although maybe not until later this evening.’
Thea, her cheeks fiery red, grabbed at a velvet drawstring pouch and withdrew a pearl necklace and a pair of pearl ear drops. Vernon reached over her shoulder.
‘Allow me.’ He opened the clasp and draped the single strand of pearls around her slender neck, admiring how the lustre of the pearls complemented her flawless skin. ‘Perfect,’ he breathed.
She held his gaze in the mirror, then her lashes swept low to veil her thoughts as she fitted her ear drops to her lobes.
‘I want to talk to you about Cordelia,’ she said.
Vernon frowned. He thought he’d dealt with that misunderstanding.
‘What about her?’
‘Do you care for her? Because, if you do, you owe me nothing.’
‘No! I—’
She rushed on: ‘You must not feel obli—’
He hauled her from her chair and into his arms. ‘Foolish Dotty. Will you just let me speak? Is that not just like you...rushing full tilt ahead without listening first?’
Thea stood rigidly in his embrace. ‘I saw you embracing her.’
‘It wasn’t an embrace. Not as you mean it.’ He slid his hands down her arms to take her hands, drawing them into his chest. ‘I was comforting her after I told her the truth about Mannington’s identity and that he was responsible for that man drowning in the river.’
‘Oh.’
‘She was upset.’
Thea stared at the floor between their feet. ‘Oh.’
‘Thea.’ She looked up. He traced the line of her brow with a gentle finger. ‘You saw us and yet still you rushed in to help us, even though you were hurting—’
‘Angry! I was angry.’
‘Angry. Of course.’
‘But I was angrier with Jasper.’
‘And now you know the truth of what you saw, are you still angry with me?’
She searched his face. ‘No. Not angry.’
‘But...?’
‘Scared.’
‘Thea, you are the most courageous woman I’ve ever met. What are you scared of? Me?’
‘I am scared of the future. Daniel said you must marry me and I know you will, because it is your duty and because you are an honourable man. But you will regret it, because your family will not approve and society will not approve. I am not of your world. I could not bear to be an...an embarrassment.’ Her voice choked on that final word.
‘Thea...you could never be an embarrassment.’
She snatched her hands from his and spread her arms wide. ‘Look at me! Of course I will be an embarrassment. You need a real lady. You need someone tall and elegant and smooth and sophisticated and—’
Vernon held his hand aloft and, miraculously, Thea halted her tirade of self-deprecation.
‘When you have quite finished telling me what you think I need, Dorothea Markham,’ he said, ‘please allow me to tell you what I want. Or, to be accurate, what I do not want.
‘I do not want a real lady, if by that you mean a female born into the aristocracy. I have met any number of them since my youth and not one of them has wriggled her way into my heart the way you have.
‘I do not want someone tall.’ He reached for her shoulders and pulled her into a gentle hug, propping his chin on top of her head, her curls tickling his jaw. ‘You are the perfect fit for me.’
He set her back again, and looked her up and down. ‘You look beautifully elegant to me, so I will accept I need—and want—an elegant wife.’
She was watching him closely, a slight crease between her brows, but the light of hope beginning to dawn in her eyes.
‘Smooth? I do not even know what you mean by smooth. If you mean your hair... I adore your hair and I’ll have you know that many society ladies spend hours trying to get their hair to curl or to fall in ringlets. You will be the envy of all.’
‘But it is red!’
‘It is the colour of a fine sunset and of an autumn leaf. It is warm and happy and perfect, and I would not have it any other colour.
‘Now. What else? Oh, yes: sophisticated. You, Thea, are an intelligent and knowledgeable woman. You are stylish—maybe not when you are dressed in breeches, but...look at yourself, sweetheart.’ He turned her to face herself in the mirror. ‘You are the exact degree of sophistication I want and the exact degree of sophistication I need.’
He turned her to face him again. ‘You are the one I want and the one I need, Thea. You and only you. I love you.’
He lowered his mouth to hers. He had no more words to describe what he felt, so he poured his heart and his soul into that kiss, desperate to show her the deepest yearnings of his heart. She responded, melting into him, her fingers clutching at his shoulders and her tongue stroking his.
Conscious of the passing time, Vernon ended the kiss. ‘Thea, I love you. Please do me the honour of being my wife.’
Her face was serious as her eyes searched his. ‘I love you, too, Vernon. But I...’
His heart cracked. Surely she would not refuse him? What could he say to convince her? He searched desperately for the words, but they would not come.
‘I need time to think,’ she continued. She caressed his cheek, then averted her face. ‘After Jasper, I swore never to trust another man.’
‘You do not trust me?’
She captured his gaze again. ‘It is my own judgement I do not trust. Give me time. Please.’
‘How much time?’
‘Does it matter?’
Yes, he wanted to roar. It matters. I want you with me always, starting now. He swallowed his pain.
‘You may take as much time as you need,’ he said. ‘Although your brother might not prove so amenable. It seems impatience is a family trait.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dealing with her brother would be easy compared to summoning the courage to accept Vernon’s proposal. She wanted to. She really wanted to. She had become so attuned to Vernon’s feelings she could feel his suppressed pain and she hated that she was the cause. But something held her back from saying ‘yes’ there and then.
‘You have often said I am impulsive,’ she said, trying to lighten the suddenly sombre mood. ‘You should be happy I am considering my answer seriously.’
‘Happy is not how I would describe it,’ he said, ‘but I accept your right to answer in your own time.’ He proffered his arm. ‘Come. It
is time to go downstairs. We have all been invited to dine with the Temples in their private parlour tonight, as it has a bigger table.’
‘All?’
Thea took Vernon’s arm and they left the bedchamber, heading for the staircase.
‘You and your brother, and me and my family.’
‘What has happened to Mrs Connor and her father?’
‘There was no room for them to stay here and they declined to join us this evening. They are weary after their journey and also, I believe, in a state of shock at what Jasper has done.’
‘What will happen to him?’
‘He’s been arrested and will be kept in jail until he stands trial at the next assizes. There’s little doubt he killed Henry Mannington and set the fire to cover up his crime and it was only by the greatest of good luck Daniel survived. I’m afraid he will almost certainly be sentenced to hang.’
Thea swallowed. He deserved to be punished, but it was hard to think of him dying in such a way. They had reached the door of the small parlour they had used during their time at the Crown.
‘We have arranged to meet the others in here before we join the Temples,’ Vernon said. ‘I shall introduce you formally to my brother and his wife—who will have conveniently forgotten they have ever set eyes upon my supposed nephew, Theo—and to Rosalind’s grandfather, Mr Allen.’
He opened the door for Thea. Three pairs of eyes turned to look at her and her stomach roiled violently and her mouth dried as she took in the figures of the Duke and Duchess and Mr Allen.
What will they say? What will they think of me?
With a flash of insight she realised that here was the ‘something’ that was holding her back. They were the reason she had not accepted Vernon straight away. It was not that she didn’t trust him. She did. And she loved him, but part of loving him meant she would also protect him. During the past week she had learned that the Beauchamps were a close and loving family and she could not bear to be the cause of conflict between them. Their acceptance of her was crucial.
Yes, it is crucial. But I can still fight for him.
Vernon’s hand was at the small of her back, large and reassuring, urging her forward. Thea swallowed, rolled her shoulders back, raised her chin a notch and walked forward.
Vernon made the introductions and Thea dropped a curtsy.
‘Oh, there’s no need to bother with curtsies,’ the Duchess said, with a smile. ‘To tell you the truth, I still haven’t become accustomed to all that formal nonsense and I doubt I ever shall. Have you ever been to London, Miss Markham?’
‘Why, no,’ Thea said.
‘Do not worry about it. If I can adapt to it, I am sure you will have no difficulty.’
‘But I am not—’
Vernon was by her side in an instant. ‘Thea has yet to agree to marry me, Rosalind,’ he said, with a warning note in his voice.
‘Oh!’ The Duchess’s cheeks washed pink. ‘I am so sorry... I assumed...that is...’
‘Hush, my sweet.’ The Duke was quick to protect the Duchess’s embarrassment and Thea warmed to him, although she still felt rather overawed in his presence. ‘I am sure Miss Markham will agree to overlook your...er...eagerness to enrol her into the family.’
Thea studied both of their expressions, but could detect no hint of insincerity. The Duke smiled at her—not the amused, slightly cynical smile she recalled from Crackthorpe Manor, but a genuine, friendly smile.
‘You do quite right to keep him guessing, Miss Markham,’ the Duchess said. ‘These Beauchamp men are far too accustomed to having females fall at their feet.’ She dipped her head closer and whispered, ‘But do not delay too long, will you? I can see you are besotted with one another and it will be pleasant to have a fellow newcomer in the family.’
They seemed welcoming enough. But what of her birth? What had Vernon told them? She wanted answers, but she knew no one in that room would be impolite enough to address such a vulgar question. She decided to tackle it head on.
‘My father is a manufacturer, your Grace,’ she said to the Duke.
He raised a dark brow, looking so like Vernon for a moment that she gaped at him.
‘I am aware of your parentage, if that is what is bothering you, Miss Markham. Stour Crystal, is it not? Very fine lead-crystal glassware...you should be proud.’
‘I am proud,’ Thea said.
‘There’s nothing amiss with working for a living, bab.’
It was the first time Mr Allen had spoken and he did so with the flat Midlands accent Thea had been familiar with her whole life.
‘I’ve been a silversmith all my life,’ he went on, his chin jutting belligerently. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of.’
The Duke grinned. ‘Quite right, Grandpa. Not a thing to be ashamed of.’ He then said to Thea, ‘Mr Allen is my wife’s paternal grandfather.’
‘And my son, her father, was a common soldier,’ the old man said. ‘Leo here, he came and found me before he married my Rosalind and took me to London for the wedding. I hadn’t seen her since she was six years old, but I never forgot her and she never forgot me. And now, I’m going to retire and spend the rest of my days with my grandchildren and, God willing, my great-grandchildren.’
The door opened and Horwell came in to announce dinner was about to be served. Daniel was already in the larger parlour, chatting to Cordelia, who seemed smitten with him. Thea noticed she barely glanced at Vernon when he entered the room. There was little chance for Thea to join in the conversation at dinner. Samuel Temple was so enthused about having a real-life ‘dook and duchess’ as his guests that he dominated the conversation, questioning Vernon’s brother about almost every topic under the sun and not holding back with his own opinions. The Duke did not appear to object, but answered him patiently, exchanging loving smiles from time to time with the Duchess.
Thea watched. And thought. And reached the conclusion she had been fretting about nothing. She appreciated Vernon giving her time to consider what she wanted and was grateful neither he nor Daniel were harrying her to accept him. It was important to her, if she married, that her husband would respect her opinion. Any residual doubts about Vernon and Cordelia had vanished. Cordelia only had eyes for Daniel, and Vernon... Thea shivered in pleasure as his hot gaze lingered on her neckline.
She waited until there was a lull in the conversation.
‘Vernon.’
A sudden hush fell over the table and Thea’s courage nearly deserted her. Then she braced herself. Everyone here knew Vernon was waiting for her answer. She owed him this.
‘Do you recall that question you asked me?’
He pursed his lips, his eyes dancing with merriment, the absolute devil.
He knows what I am going to say.
‘I do,’ he said.
‘May I give you my answer now?’
He nodded.
‘My answer is yes.’
A huge grin split Vernon’s face. He shot to his feet and thrust his arms high in the air, as a cheer arose around the table. Before she realised he had moved, he was by her side and pulling her to her feet.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Oh...’ with an ironic bow in his brother’s direction ‘...and your Grace. Allow me to introduce the future Lady Vernon Beauchamp. The woman I adore. The love of my life.’
He kissed her soundly on the lips to a chorus of congratulations and a loud, ‘I’m pleased someone has managed to talk some sense into her’ from Daniel, which brought forth much laughter.
Horwell popped his head around the door to investigate the noise and added his best wishes to the happy couple.
‘Horwell...two bottles of your finest champagne,’ the Duke said. ‘This calls for a toast.’
* * *
Later that evening—her head pleasantly swimming from the
effects of the champagne and her heart full and happy and content and excited—Thea undressed to prepare for bed. She washed at the basin and slipped on her shift, then sat at the dressing table to brush her hair. She could not wait for it to grow properly.
She froze as a movement in the mirror caught her eye, her heart leaping into her throat as she realised the door behind her was opening. But her terror lasted only a second. Vernon—in open-necked shirt and trousers—slid through the opening. Their gazes fused in the looking glass and she saw the heat in his, and that recognition stoked such a fire in her blood she could barely sit still. But she forced herself to remain seated as Vernon padded across the carpet. He took the brush from her hand and drew it through her curls, a look of total absorption on his face.
‘I adore your hair,’ he murmured, his deep voice melting through her.
He knelt behind her, pushed her hair aside and kissed her nape, then feathered kisses along her shoulder, pushing the neck of her shift aside to allow him access.
‘I adore your skin.’ She looked up at him, over her shoulder and he gently flicked the tip of her nose. ‘I adore your freckles.’ He reached around and cupped her. ‘I adore your breasts.’
She shuddered, pushing into his touch, wanting more.
He rose behind her and urged her to stand, kicking the chair out of the way. His hands were on the hem of her shift, lifting, and she raised her arms, and then she was naked, her torso from thigh to neck reflected in the mirror. His hands were on her arms, holding them aloft, and he groaned—a deep, heartfelt sound that vibrated through her.
She could wait no longer. She wriggled and turned, tugging his shirt from his trousers and over his head. She stroked eager hands over the heavy muscles of his chest and shoulders, then fumbled at the fall of his trousers. He eased away from her and then he was as naked as she.
He cupped her chin and kissed her, hard.
‘And I adore your impatience. And your impulsiveness. And...you!’
This time the kiss lingered, explored, feasted, as did their hands.
Vernon swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed, following her down.
* * *
Scandal and Miss Markham Page 25