A Winter Scandal

by Candace Camp

  “No, I don’t think I will. It truly does not suit me, so it will just languish in the back of my wardrobe.”

  Thea cast another look at herself and added reluctantly, “But it is red. It wouldn’t be appropriate, really.”

  “To wear red?” Damaris’s eyebrows shot upward, and a faint look of hauteur touched her face. “I wore it. Do you think that it was improper of me?”

  “No, you goose, and you needn’t put on that aristocratic look for my benefit,” Thea retorted. “I am sure you looked absolutely lovely in it, and I doubt anyone thought anything wrong with it. But you are not the vicar’s sister. They will say it is scandalous for me to wear such a dress. And they will say the neckline is too low.”

  “They, they, they …” Damaris said crossly, coming over to stand by her friend. She looped her arm around Thea’s shoulders and looked into the mirror, too. “Who cares what they say? It wouldn’t be anyone but some old tabby who is green with jealousy, that is all. What matters, my dear, is what Lord Morecombe will say when he sees it.”

  “Oh, Damaris …” Thea met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “I can’t … I mean, I don’t … I won’t think that way.”

  “Why ever not?” Damaris turned sideways to look at her friend. “Really, Thea, anyone with two eyes can see that his lordship is smitten with you.”

  “No, truly, I am sure he is not. I—I have helped him, and he is concerned about Matthew and grateful, I’m sure, for my taking care of Matthew.”

  “What a bag of moonshine. I hope you do not think I would believe such nonsense.” Damaris peered more closely into Thea’s face. “Do not tell me you actually believe that! Thea … a man like Morecombe does not dance attendance on a woman because she tends to a baby who may or may not be his sister’s illegitimate child. He can hire someone to look after the baby—indeed, he has hired a nursemaid, has he not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why has he not taken the baby back to his house, as he was going to? Mrs. Clemmons told me he hired the first housekeeper she recommended to him, and the housekeeper has already hired three maids. Lady Wofford is in residence there now, so his household is perfectly respectable, even if she is a bit of a snob. Lolly and young Matthew could move to his house today if he wanted.”

  “He agrees that Matthew would be happier with me.”

  “No doubt Matthew is. But I suspect the reason is more that Lord Morecombe does not wish to cause you unhappiness. Not to mention the fact that it gives the man a grand excuse to call on you—as he has done each and every day for over a week now.”

  Thea felt herself blushing at her friend’s blunt words. “I will admit that Gabriel has expressed an interest in me.”

  “I knew it!” Damaris grinned, her eyes twinkling.

  “But it isn’t in any permanent way. It cannot be. Oh, Damaris, don’t you see? I cannot allow myself to hope!”

  “But, darling, why not?” Damaris grabbed Thea’s hands and squeezed them.

  “I am not the sort of woman a man like Lord Morecombe marries!” Thea said in an anguished voice.

  “Why not? Thea, dear, your name is quite respectable. Why, you are cousin to an earl—an earl whose son is Morecombe’s friend, as well. You’ve no scandalous past or skeletons in your closet. You haven’t a gaggle of impecunious relatives who will cling to him like leeches or mad uncles locked up in your attic. And Morecombe hardly needs you to bring him a large dowry.”

  “Damaris … I am plain! I am fine to … to flirt with while Morecombe is in the country for a few weeks. But he will go back to the beautiful ladies of the ton. In a few days, I will be forgotten. Gabriel will marry someone sophisticated and lovely, the sort of woman meant to be Lady Morecombe. Not a dowdy spinster from the Cotswolds.”

  “Thea! Look in this mirror.” Damaris turned Thea toward the mirror again, pulling her closer to the looking glass. “Obviously, Lord Morecombe does not find you plain. There are several girls of low station whom he could flirt with—and more—if that was all he wanted. If you will remember, everyone in Chesley was chattering about the fact that he was doing exactly that. He was not lonely for female companionship. He did not need to seek you out merely to keep him occupied until he returned to London. He chose to be with you. He sought you out. And he is, as you pointed out, a man well acquainted with the beauties of the ton. He is, I venture to say, a connoisseur of female beauty. Why would you not believe his judgment regarding your looks?”

  Thea gazed, wide-eyed, into the mirror. Looking at herself now, she had to admit that she was more attractive than she had thought. Something about her was softer and more pliant, and her face had a glow that she had never before seen. The body that had always been gawky now seemed to have a certain grace. Perhaps she did not have the tempting curves of Damaris beside her, but Thea now realized that her long limbs had their own sort of appeal. After all, Gabriel had told her so—not just with words, but with his desire. Perhaps some of the difference in her was attributable to the changes she had made in hairstyle or clothes, but Thea realized that something more was involved. Happiness, emotion, confidence, had all added an indefinable allure. And maybe, just maybe, she thought, before this she had not looked at herself through impartial eyes. She had never really seen herself.

  Not as the vicar’s daughter, the vicar’s sister, the plain contrast to Veronica’s beauty. But simply as Thea. A woman completely separate from all those things. And deserving of her own separate life.

  She turned to Damaris, an impish grin spreading across her face. “You know … I think a red dress might be just what I want after all.”

  Once Thea had accepted the dress, a great deal of measuring and pinning had to be done so that Damaris’s maid could alter it to suit Thea, so it was close to an hour before Thea took her leave and started back through the village toward her house. She had not even reached the center of the town when she saw Gabriel striding toward her.

  Thea could not refrain from smiling. She had been hurrying, thinking that Gabriel might have come to call on her while she was out and she would have missed him. He had visited every afternoon since Christmas, visits that had been almost as frustrating as they were delightful. Much as she enjoyed seeing Gabriel, being with him, talking to him, her being with him, even for a short time, filled her with desire—a desire that was frustratingly unfulfilled.

  When they sat talking, whether side by side on the sofa or across from each other in separate chairs, Thea was overwhelmingly aware of Gabriel’s nearness. Only inches separated them. She could reach out a hand to touch his thigh or stroke his cheek; he could caress her skin, kiss her lips. But they could allow none of those things to happen because at any moment someone might pop into the room. Between Lolly and the baby, Thea’s brother, Mrs. Brewster, and the day maid, not to mention the usual daily visitors to the vicar’s house, the supply of possible interlopers was seemingly never ending. Nor could they meet at the Priory, which would not only test the boundaries of scandal, but also contained even more guests and servants. And the winter weather made any thought of dallying in some glade completely absurd.

  Gabriel’s hand might brush hers as he handed over Matthew or his gaze might slide boldly down her body, setting up an answering heat, but both of them were well aware that nothing else would follow, no chance to slake the thirst building inside them. As a result, every time Thea saw Gabriel, her desire increased, followed by an equally intense rush of frustration. Even now, just seeing him walking toward her down the street, his long legs eating up the ground between them, Thea’s blood began to heat within her veins. Her fingers tightened around her reticule as she reined in her reactions.

  “Miss Bainbridge.”

  “Lord Morecombe.” Their eyes met, warm with the feelings that could not be expressed here on the street.

  “I was just at the vicarage,” Gabriel said, turning to walk beside her back in the direction he had come. “They told me you were visiting Mrs. Howard, so I thought I would offer my escort
to your house.”

  “That is most kind of you.” Thea’s eyes went to his mouth. She could not help but think how it had felt on her throat … her breasts … her stomach.

  His pupils darkened, and he glanced away. Thea struggled to think of something to say that did not involve any of the things her mind was dwelling on.

  “Um … I … I hope your guests will not think you are neglecting them.”

  “They find it odd, I believe, that I take so many rides in the middle of winter.” Gabriel grinned to himself. “Myles is the only one who has guessed the reason.”

  “That you are coming to see your nephew?”

  His grin widened. “That I am using it as an excuse to see you. Ian and Alan, I think, believe I have taken leave of my senses over some stranger’s baseborn child.”

  “They do not think Matthew is your sister’s child?”

  “I believe they prefer not to think about the baby at all. Lady Wofford endeared herself to me somewhat by insisting that Jocelyn was too good a person to have an illegitimate child, but I fear that is probably more her naïveté speaking than any conviction based on facts.”

  They had reached the center of the village and were about to turn toward Thea’s home when Gabriel glanced up the street in the opposite direction. His footsteps faltered and stopped as he stared at a woman walking past the bakery across the road. The woman glanced at them, then turned and walked rapidly away. Gabriel watched her go, frowning.

  “Gabriel?” Thea glanced up at him questioningly. “What is it?”

  “I know that woman—but what—? The devil!” He took off at a run.

  After a startled instant, Thea hurried after him. He whipped around the corner of the building and disappeared from her sight. When Thea caught up with him, he was standing in the middle of the street, looking around him in frustration.

  Gabriel let out a short, blunt curse under his breath. “I lost her. I was too late. It took me too long to recognize her.”

  “Who was she? Why did you run after her?”

  “It was Jocelyn’s maid. Hannah. I’m sure of it.”

  Thea stared at him. “Then that means …”

  “Jocelyn is still here. She must be.”

  They walked farther up the street, looking all around them for any sign of the woman Gabriel had seen in front of the bakery. Thea had not seen the woman’s face; all she had seen was a short woman in a dark cloak. However, any woman would have been noticeable on the empty streets. They saw no one.

  The shops gave way to houses, and before long they were on the edge of the town. They had crossed a street in their search, with no sign of anyone on it in either direction. They checked in the shops to see if Hannah had entered any of them and even went so far as to knock on the front doors of some of the houses. No one had seen the woman they sought. They received the same answer in the shops near where they had first seen the maid. No stranger had come into their stores that day.

  “I am sure everyone in Chesley will now be convinced that I am mad,” Gabriel said as they turned away. “I cannot believe I let her slip away! If only I had recognized her immediately.” Gabriel jammed his fists into his pockets in frustration.

  “Are you certain it was your sister’s maid?”

  He nodded. “I might have had some doubt about it if she had not disappeared like that. But as soon as she saw me, she turned and ran. Why would a stranger have done that? When I saw her, I was certain I knew her; her features were so familiar. They should be; she lived in my household for years. But it took me a moment to figure out how I knew her. It was just so startling, so out of place to come upon her here.”

  “It must mean your sister is here, don’t you think? And that Matthew is her child? It strains credulity to think they are unrelated.”

  “I agree. It is also much likelier that Jocelyn camped at the ruins if she had Hannah to help her. Hannah would have been the one cooking over the fire.”

  “I suppose Hannah could have stolen the baby from her and brought him here herself,” Thea mused.

  “To what purpose? Why kidnap Jocelyn’s baby, steal her brooch, and then abandon them both?”

  “It doesn’t sound likely,” Thea admitted.

  “I shouldn’t have given up on looking for Jocelyn,” Gabriel said as they turned their steps back toward the vicarage.

  “But there is no way you could have known. It was clear that no one had been back to the ruins for several days, and we had searched all around.”

  “I must search again. Could they be staying in any of those houses near where I saw her?”

  “I can draw a map when we get home. I don’t imagine there are too many places in Chesley that Mrs. Brewster or Lolly or I don’t know who lives there.”

  Her words turned out to be true enough. In the kitchen, Thea took a pencil and piece of paper and began to sketch out the roads and lanes of the village, marking down X’s for houses and O’s for businesses, paying particular attention to the area where Gabriel had spotted the maid. Lolly listened to them with wide-eyed attention as she fed the baby, every now and then popping in with a name or location.

  Thea did her best to keep her attention on her task, but it became more and more difficult with Gabriel sitting so close beside her, his breath sometimes touching her ear or neck or face as he bent closer to see the map. She scolded herself for her obviously wanton nature—how could she be thinking of Gabriel’s kiss at a time like this!—but her words had little effect on the heat that twined and twisted through her abdomen.

  “I don’t think they could be in any of these houses,” Thea said at last, setting down the pencil and leaning back in her chair. “One of us would have heard if anyone had two strangers staying with them. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Brewster?”

  The housekeeper nodded. “Aye. There’s not much goes on in Chesley I don’t know about. Certainly wouldn’t be anybody living on Butcher’s Lane.”

  “I think she turned down that street because it was the quickest way to get out of my line of sight. She could have run down a cross street or alley and circled back. She could have gone anywhere.”

  Thea picked up the rudimentary map, and she and Gabriel went into the sitting room to continue their discussion. Gabriel poked the coals into life and added another piece of wood to get the fire blazing. He stood for a moment, staring moodily down into the leaping fire.

  “You must not blame yourself,” Thea told him, going over to him.

  He turned and smiled at her sadly. “I think the worst part is that Jocelyn does not want to see me. I thought she brought Matthew here and ran away, and I tried to accept that she felt humiliated or ashamed or afraid to face me. I thought she had intended to come to me, but at the last minute could not work up the courage. I thought later she would regret it or see that I welcomed the baby, and perhaps she would come back. Or at least write me a letter—give me some way of reaching her. But this … to know that she has been here for the past weeks, hiding from me!”

  Gabriel turned and wrapped his arms around Thea, holding on to her tightly and leaning his head against hers. “Thank God you are here with me. I should hate to face this alone.”

  “Of course I am here.” Thea encircled his waist with her arms and returned his embrace. She would not have cared at that moment if half the village had walked in and seen her in Gabriel’s arms. All she could think of was his need for comfort. “I will do anything I can to help you.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You do more than you could know. Thank you.” She could feel his smile against her hair. “I should very much like to kiss you now. Properly, I mean.” His lips brushed her hair again, and he sighed and set her aside. “I have to find her. I cannot be at ease until I at least speak to Jocelyn about all this.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Obviously, Jocelyn is willing to live in much less comfort than I had assumed. If it’s unlikely that she’s staying in the village, I think I should search the area surround
ing the village. Perhaps there is an abandoned cottage or a barn or other outbuilding where she and Hannah might have sought shelter. I cannot think that she would be staying outdoors in this weather, but there must be some out-of-the-way places or huts or something in which she could live temporarily.”

  “That will be a long and difficult task.”

  He nodded. “I know. But I think my friends will help me search. I will divide the area up and search it methodically. I think she must be staying within walking distance of the village if her maid is going back and forth to Chesley, so that will curtail the area a good deal.”

  Thea nodded. “I wish I could be of some help to you.”

  “You already have been. Just keep an ear out for any news about strangers in the village. You and your housekeeper are bound to hear if there is any gossip.”

  “True. That is one of the things that is so peculiar—that all this has happened yet no one seems to have noticed any strangers in the village.” Thea paused. “I cannot help but wonder what the man who abducted Matthew has to do with your sister and her maid.”

  “I know. ’Tis a complete puzzlement to me.”

  “Do you think—could he be Matthew’s father?”

  Gabriel looked at her, startled. “I suppose he could be. It would make sense if the man was connected to Matthew.”

  “Perhaps he did not want your sister bringing the baby to you or seeking your help. Maybe he tried to steal it from her, and that is why she is hiding.”

  “You are kind to come up with reasons for my sister’s avoidance of me that do not include her disliking or fearing me.” He smiled at Thea. “But if that is the case, why would Jocelyn hide from me, too? I would think she would come to me for help against the fellow.”

  “It does not make much sense.”

  “Nothing about this whole affair makes much sense,” Gabriel responded drily.