Lady Beware

by Jo Beverley

  “Dare doesn’t need you all to wipe his brow and feed him pap.”

  “Mama and Papa are going, so I can hardly stay here.”

  “Come and live with us. We’ll have lots of fun.”

  Maddy, day in and day out? Thea couldn’t bear it. “I want to go, Maddy. Truly.”

  “Oh, well. If you’re abandoning the Vile Viscount, perhaps I’ll play with him. Mother might even permit it now. You’ve managed to move him from the outer wastes into the fringes of acceptability, and he does have the title. Mother is desperate for me to marry a title. I do prefer a bigger man, of course, but I suppose in bed it doesn’t matter too much….”

  Tea and cakes threatened to rise from Thea’s stomach. She rose. “I have to finish the shopping and organize my packing, Maddy. If I don’t see you before I leave, I’ll write.”

  Once home, Thea plunged into packing as if that would remove her from Town and temptation the sooner. Maddy’s words had been disgusting, but they’d ignited pure, searing jealousy. She’d recover once she was away. She had to.

  Harriet began to mutter, and Thea realized that she never packed her own clothes. She was probably doing it all wrong. She went off to the piano, but for once that didn’t soothe her nerves, especially as she kept hitting wrong notes.

  She attended a concert that evening, but Darien wasn’t there. Thea berated herself for noticing. On Sunday she and her parents attended St. George’s again, but Darien wasn’t there, either. Was he avoiding her?

  By afternoon, Thea’s willpower broke. She sought her mother.

  “I was wondering…”

  “Yes, dear?” The duchess looked up from a list of some sort.

  “As we’re leaving tomorrow, shouldn’t we try to make one last show of support for Darien?”

  “It’s Sunday, dear.”

  “What about a walk in the park?”

  “That would be possible, but there’s so much to do…. Oh, you mean just you. To the park? Perfectly respectable. How kind of you to think of it, dear. I think the poor man feels he let you down. He wrote a note to me to apologize.”

  For what in particular? Thea wondered, blushing. “It wasn’t his fault.”

  “But you felt he had reacted too strongly.”

  “I was probably overwrought.”

  “I do think so, dear, so you should put his mind at ease. I’ll write a note asking if he’s free.”

  Thea returned to her room in turmoil. She had permission, but now she wasn’t sure she should meet him again. In fact, she knew she should resist temptation. But once her family left Town, she probably wouldn’t return until late in the year. Anything could happen by then. Just one more meeting wouldn’t hurt. And perhaps they could part on better terms.

  More likely, he’d make an excuse. He was clearly avoiding her.

  But he replied to say he would call at three. Thea flew to choose the perfect outfit, but of course most of her favorites were already packed. In the end she picked a dusky pink dress and spencer from last year. It had been a favorite, and Darien wouldn’t know it had been worn many times.

  Just a walk in nearby St. James’s Park, she thought, adjusting the tilt of a satin beret trimmed with flowers. A chance to reassure him that she wasn’t upset, and make a gracious farewell.

  But as soon as he entered the reception room where she waited, her heart stampeded and she couldn’t stop looking at him. His lean face, his dark eyes, his hands. Those hands…

  He seemed to search her appearance, too. “Good day, Lady Thea. I hope you are recovered?”

  She couldn’t bear the yards between them, but felt rooted, unable to bridge them.

  “Yes, thank you. Busy, of course. Because we leave Town tomorrow.”

  “I heard.”

  Their eyes locked, but nothing of their deeper thoughts could be spoken. For the sake of servants beyond the open door. For the sake of sanity. The desire between them was like a power in the air, but so was the impossibility of any future together.

  There was one thing she had to say. “I don’t hold you responsible, Darien. For anything.”

  “Thank you. But my own assessment is harsher.” He gestured toward the door. With a suppressed sigh, she walked past him and out of the room.

  They were walking down the street in silence, which was intolerable. “I hope you won’t miss my family’s support,” she said.

  “I believe I can manage. With the help of the Rogues.”

  His tone was as unreadable as an ancient manuscript. “You don’t mind?”

  “Anything for the cause.”

  She suppressed another sigh. “Have you heard from your brother?”

  “No. But then, he could be at sea chasing Barbary pirates or some such.”

  Why had she suggested this? They couldn’t even converse. “How long do you intend to stay in Town?” she asked.

  “As long as I can work toward my purpose here.”

  “Parliament may sit for a long time….”

  They continued in this horrible manner until they entered St. James’s Park. Then, as if something cracked, he said, “I’m sorry, Thea. I never meant to hurt you, but I warned you from the start.”

  “You didn’t exactly hurt—”

  “Don’t lie.” It was said gently. “Your feelings show.”

  At least they were talking. Her smile was wobbly, but genuine. “Are you saying I’m out of looks, sir?”

  “Another thing a gentleman never says to a lady? You know by now I’m not that sort of gentleman.”

  She had her hands clasped in front, and they went tight on each other. “I like the sort of gentleman you are.”

  Like. So tame a word.

  “I like the sort of lady you are, Thea. The sort who feels guilty over what we did.”

  “I don’t feel guilty. I don’t. To do it again, to plan it, would be wrong, but I can’t regret what we did.”

  “We should walk,” he said, touching her arm gently.

  He was right, so she obeyed, strolling along the tree-lined path as if only out to take the air.

  “Guilt and the fear of guilt can be protective,” he said.

  “You want me to feel guilty?”

  “I want you safe, Thea. From physical harm, from all discomfort. From me.”

  Thea grabbed on to the simplest safety. “Association with you isn’t dangerous. At the masquerade, that could have happened to anyone. It had nothing to do with who you are.”

  “The way I handled it did.”

  “You rescued me.”

  “You rescued yourself. I punished the wrongdoer. You were disgusted.”

  “I was shocked,” she protested. “I’ve recovered.”

  “You no longer think what I did bloody and vile?”

  “You are an infuriating man,” she said balefully, stopping to glare at him. “Very well, why did you do it? Why carry on like that?”

  “Because I was angry and wanted to hurt him.”

  Take it or leave it, his flat tone said. This is who I am.

  And his intention was that she leave it.

  She turned and marched on, prattling about preparations for the journey. About which gown to wear on the first day of the journey. About which bonnets were more suitable for country wear and which best left in town. About slippers, sandals, and half boots. About leather gloves and lace mittens.

  It was the sort of tedium she’d never inflict on anyone, but he deserved every boring moment of it. She continued it for a full circuit of the park, only glancing at him now and then. He seemed attentive. She was sure he was thinking about horses, or weapons, or something, so she stopped again to confront him. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Now.”

  “That you would be a very expensive wife.”

  “Infuriating!”

  He laughed. “Not really, Thea, though you would be.”

  “I know how to be frugal,” she protested.

  “About as well as you know how to make bread.”

  “You’r
e not poor,” she pointed out, wondering frantically if they really were talking about marriage. Their marriage.

  “No, but a season of your gowns might make me so. Thea, my land needs money ploughed back into it, for many years. There’ll be little for fripperies. And in truth, I’m not much interested in them.”

  “Horses?” she challenged, and he smiled. It was a true smile, without restraint.

  “Are never fripperies,” he said. “I’ll want a few good ones, yes, but not like St. Raven, who has dozens and buys a new one on a whim.”

  “He’s a duke.”

  “And you’re a duke’s daughter.”

  “I’m tempted to marry you simply to prove that I wouldn’t drive you into debtor’s prison,” she said.

  It was so very dangerous to dance around the subject like this, but what if he was thinking of marriage? Might she not think of it, too?

  “But what if you did send me to the Fleet? You’d doubtless abandon me to my fate.”

  “No, I’d live there with you and hang out a basket to beg pennies from my rich friends.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously, Thea, but you should.”

  She stopped as if to look at the water in the reservoir and the birds swimming there. “You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”

  “You are my goddess, but—”

  She turned on him. “If you say goddesses lie around in idleness, demanding to be worshipped, I shall hit you.”

  “You and your mother certainly don’t, but you have your sphere and I have mine. I could not bear to drag you down.”

  “Aren’t gods and goddesses always invading lower spheres?” she challenged.

  “You’ve been reading naughty books again.”

  “The classics aren’t naughty books.”

  “Oh, but they frequently are. Consider the swans,” he said, “and think of Leda.”

  “Or think of feathers,” she murmured.

  “Broken feathers,” he reminded her.

  She turned to walk on into the trees that overhung a long dip in the ground. “Do you know this spot? It’s still called Rosamund’s Pond, even though the pond was filled in long since. It proved too popular for suicides.”

  “A pond remains a pond when dry. A Cave remains a Cave. A goddess remains a higher being.” But he pulled her against him and kissed her as he had the first time, but with no trace of resistance from her. But then, too soon, he set her away from him, his hands still on her shoulders. “There is a magic between us, my Thea—”

  “Yes.”

  “—but the seeds of our destruction, too.”

  “You’re a warrior, Darien. Aren’t you willing to fight for us?”

  “I fight too much and too well. Isn’t that the point?”

  “It doesn’t matter!” And it didn’t. Everything was suddenly clear. “I don’t mean I don’t care about it, but I know now. I’d rather live with the warrior than without you. Does that make sense?”

  “Too much. I can’t permit—”

  She stepped back out of his hold. “Why do you get to say all the time? I have a new agreement for you.”

  He turned watchful, and she could see him building defenses. “What?”

  “We leave for Somerset tomorrow,” she said. “We probably won’t be back in London until autumn. The first part of the agreement is this. Neither of us shall commit to another before then.”

  “And the second part?”

  “When we meet again, we discuss the situation.”

  “Discuss. We’re on the brink of explosion, here in a public park—”

  “In the trees,” she countered.

  “Even so. And in four or more months you expect us to talk?”

  “Perhaps by then we’ll see the folly of our excitement.”

  “And if we don’t?” he asked softly.

  Thea looked down, almost unable to say it. But then she met his eyes. “Then we marry. Are we agreed?”

  He considered her, lips tight. “I assume that by then you’ll have come to your senses, so very well, if you wish.”

  It was ungracious, but Thea had to suppress a smile as they walked back to her house. It wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t sure what perfect was. It was a promise, however. And they kept their promises.

  Chapter 31

  The Yeovils left Town, and Darien continued his busy social activities without them. He couldn’t resist a tiny flame of hope. He knew he wasn’t the right husband for Thea Debenham, and that even if she persisted in her madness, he’d have to stop her from ruining her life. But a small part of him clung to a belief that he could restore his family’s reputation beyond tolerable to honorable, and thus be worthy of her.

  He was shocked by how badly he missed her. Even when they hadn’t met for days, he’d known she was nearby—that he might encounter her. That if he needed to, he could seek her out. Now she was completely, thoroughly absent.

  At least Foxstall was, too. He’d finished his duties and had to return north. He’d dropped by to complain about it. “Just as I was making headway with Miss Debenham, too.”

  Darien would stop that union if he thought it had any chance of happening, but he didn’t see the need.

  “With some women, I’d think absence would do the trick, but not with her,” Foxstall complained. “A true butterfly.”

  “I don’t know why you bother.”

  “Fifteen thousand and her family’s solid gold influence! Don’t know how you let the other one slip through your fingers. Especially after getting her to that masquerade.”

  “It was Lady Thea’s idea to attend.”

  “I hope you made good use of it.”

  Was there something malicious in Foxstall’s tone? No one seemed to suspect what had happened.

  Darien had visited Lady Harroving the day after the masquerade, ostensibly to apologize for the fight on her premises, but in fact to find out what was being said about the linen room. Nothing, as best he could tell, though he’d learned his opponent in the fight had been the Earl of Glenmorgan. Glenmorgan was known for his belligerance, and he had apparently tried to send a challenge but had been dissuaded by his friends.

  “Her family’s opposition might do the trick, I suppose,” Foxstall said. “She’s willful enough to insist on her way. So you might find me nestled in the bosom of the Debenham family yet. Nice juicy sinecures. Seat in Parliament. House in the best part of Town.”

  Over my dead body.

  “Won’t going back to Lancashire hamper you?” Darien said, neutrally.

  “I’m a dab hand with letters. Wish me well, old friend.”

  “Bon voyage,” Darien said, and good riddance.

  But in Foxstall’s absence, Maddy Debenham decided to amuse herself with Darien. He was grateful to be busy.

  The fight with Glenmorgan had done his reputation no good. Some men admired the directness of his action, but many thought it uncouth. If there was affront between gentlemen, a properly organized duel was the appropriate action, not a brawl in the kitchens. Therefore, he had to work even harder to make up lost ground.

  Morning, noon, and night he was with one or more Rogues—at coffeehouses, scientific meetings, boxing parlors, and gaming parties. When female influence was required, he had the company of beautiful Laura Ball, quiet Cressida St. Raven, spirited Clarissa Hawkinville, and even Middlethorpe’s alarmingly trenchant aunt, Arabella Hurstman.

  On seeing the plain-faced, plain-dressed woman he’d silently doubted her usefulness, but a walk with her through the park at a fashionable hour had been like a social tonic. Under her firm look, the still reluctant smiled at him for the first time. With the more stubborn, she marched him straight up to them and ordered them to support the innocent victim of spite and malice. Not quite in those terms, but in effect, and absolutely no one denied her.

  They were probably as terrified of her umbrella as he was. It went everywhere with her and had a sharp point.

  He liked her. He did not like the cool,
distant Lady Cawle, but gathered that her deigning to speak to him for a few moments was a seal of approval.

  He’d even been received by royalty. Various heavy levers had been brought to bear, and two weeks after the Yeovils left Town, he’d been summoned to Carlton House for a private audience with the Prince Regent. His principal sponsor was the regent’s brother, the Duke of York, commander in chief of the army, who’d been genuinely warm.

  The regent seemed merely forbearing. Darien had appreciated the honor and what it would mean in his campaign, but his self-control had been stretched. In his extreme girth and fashion, the regent had a distinct look of an older Pup. He regretted missing the now mythic encounter.

  Even art was recruited. Luck Armiger had not run off with the money, but worked hard on his commission. His oil sketch had proved his skill, for he’d turned the look of a statue into one of action, with horse and rider raring for battle. Darien had paid for the complete picture. Maria had decreed that when it was finished it would go on display in a gallery, a pictorial representation of a glorious Cave.

  Darien thought the idea ridiculous, but anything for the cause.

  In the midst of all this, Pup had married his Alice, enjoyed the enormous wedding breakfast he’d arranged himself, and rolled off to honeymoon at Lord Arden’s cottage orneé in the country. Darien actually missed him. The gloom of Cave House lowered on him again and the ghosts returned.

  But apart from that, all was well. Amazingly so.

  Darien wasn’t sure, therefore, why he was skulking in his study on a sunny morning, papers untended all around him, drinking too much brandy. The silver feather might be a clue.

  He picked it up and twirled it. He’d found it clinging to the braid of the cavalier costume. It was weakness to keep it, but it was all he had of her, and all he would have for many months, perhaps even forever.

  There was one solid problem. He hadn’t heard from Frank in over a month, which concerned him, especially as inquiries at the Admiralty turned up no particular campaigns he could be involved with. Short of sailing to Gibraltar himself, however, there was little he could do.

  He put aside brandy and turned his attention to the books and paper before him. He’d shelved his attempt to understand the inventories in order to prepare to take his seat in Parliament. Before doing so, he wanted some understanding of the myriad subjects he’d be voting on. Having Greek and Latin beaten into him at Harrow had been less work, but it was part of his struggle for acceptance, his striving to be worthy of Thea. He’d give it his all.