by Joan Vincent
A burst of laughter was free before Thomasina realized it. A shamefaced glance at the Marchioness found her to be, strangely enough, not insulted at the response but beaming with approval.
“Answer me, miss.”
“In truth, my lady, I do desire to find a position as governess in some good household. But as to establishing one of my own—that is quite impossible. My father died impoverished.”
Thoughts raced through her mind. Although Thomasina found it hard to believe this particular old woman would be ignorant about anything, the Marchioness must not know about her grandson’s dissolute living.
“Is something the matter, child?” Lady Longeton asked, wondering at the strange expression that had come over the girl.
“No, my lady. I simply meant that I could not set up a household, and dowerless, marriage is also out of the question.”
“What if a lack of dowry did not have a bearing on a proposal of marriage?” the Marchioness asked, watching Thomasina carefully.
A grin appeared in answer to Lady Longeton’s question. “My lady, my dowerless state has proven a powerful protection from marriage proposals. I must admit I have found that to be a relief.”
“Folderal. You cannot mean you do not desire to have a home and children. A husband is necessary for such accomplishments,” admonished the Marchioness.
“Then I must forego the necessity as well as the reality,” Thomasina said bluntly.
“You have no wish to marry—not even a wealthy man?”
“Not I,” clipped Thomasina adamantly.
The wisdom of age detected the brief flicker of anguish that came with the terse answer. “You would not consider the proposal of a wealthy man?”
“If I must ever consider an offer for my hand, it will be the man’s honour that I scrutinize more closely than his material wealth,” Thomasina replied with an edge of bitterness.
“What an odd answer for one in your state,” the Marchioness noted. “But I do believe you are sincere.”
With a brief nod from the other, Thomasina was dismissed. “I am tired, Miss Thait. You should return to your room. Enjoy your excursion later this morn.”
Rising, Thomasina bobbed a curtsy and withdrew, puzzled by the interview and its purpose. It was just as baffling as her invitation to Thornhill. She did not care to dwell upon the objective of the latter. Picking up her skirts, Thomasina raced back to the room she shared with Dianna.
Her cousin sat up as she slipped quietly into the room and closed the door. “Why have you been about so early, Thomasina?” she asked. A mournful expression came over her, and she raised her hand to her face and paled.
“An assignation,” she breathed, and fell upon her pillow in a burst of tears leaving Thomasina staring at her dumbfounded.
* * * *
Her abigail returned to Lady Longeton’s rooms.
“Well, Jane?”
“Cocky, my lady.”
“Exactly. I believe she will do very well, but I feel there is some impediment. It may take some doing.” She thumped the cup and saucer upon the table and spilled the cocoa. “Dress me, Jane. I must see that grandson of mine.”
Chapter Thirteen
A soft sigh came from Thomasina as she noted with relief that Dianna was responding quite happily to Lord Sternbye as they rode together. The morning’s outburst appeared forgotten. A glance to her left revealed Mathew had noticed Dianna’s enjoyment of Lord George’s attention also.
“Why must we be last?” Parker asked unhappily from her right.
“You should be grateful for being allowed to join us instead of spending the day with your mother,” Viscount Sherrad admonished him. “Only Tommi’s willingness to watch you is responsible for your coming.”
“It does not matter where we are placed in the ride,” Thomasina added. “All are enjoying the same fair day.”
“But I wished to see Haunted Haven first,” Parker grumbled.
“You may not see it first,” Thomasina laughed, “but I have no doubt you will explore more of it than all the others.”
“Someone is coming,” Parker shouted as he spied a lone rider topping the knoll of a rise to one side.
As everyone cast about for a glimpse, Lord John pointed and said, “That is Brutus. Lady Longeton said he would join our party. Let us halt and allow him to overtake us.”
Horses reined to a stop, all watched the galloping steed.
“That is Rapscallion,” Parker said excitedly. “Look at how he runs!”
“I told you he was swift,” Nicholas Sherrad said as he watched the steed’s movement appreciatively.
The Marquess’ stallion thudded to a halt before the group. The other mounts shifted nervously. Dianna gave a shriek and jerked on the reins as her steed stepped back. Lord Sternbye grabbed her bridle and made a huge show of settling the animal.
“Are you quite all right, my dear Miss Buckley?” he gushed. “How ungentlemanly of the Marquess,” he added in an undertone that carried through the group.
With a grateful nod, she assured him, “I am quite fine now. Thank you, Lord Sternbye. I do not know what I would have done had you not been so quick.”
“My honoured privilege,” he replied with a flourish. “For one as beautiful as you, there is little I would not do.”
The Claymore girls and Lady Terese twittered at this exchange. Eyebrows rose among the gentlemen who could see little danger in a mount’s shifting back a few steps. Only Lord Longeton took outward displeasure at the words.
Misinterpreting the reason for his reaction, Thomasina urged her steed forward, calling Parker to join her. To her great annoyance, the boy called out to the Marquess, “Your lordship, will you not ride with us?”
Longeton’s frown lessened when his gaze encountered the boy’s. He glanced at Thomasina and she deliberately looked away. Seeing that Lord John had joined Sternbye and Dianna, he set his jaw and reined in Rapscallion beside the boy’s pony. “You know our direction,” he called to Sir Peter. “Lead on.”
Slowly the group wended forward, conversation breaking out among the various riders.
“That’s a top o’ the trees beast,” Parker imitated the conversation he had overheard as he eyed Rapscallion enviously.
“Someday I may let you ride him,” Longeton told him. “But he would prove too much for you at this time. I hope you have found Blackie satisfactory.”
“At least he is faster than Toby,” Parker acknowledged.
The Marquess looked past Parker at Thomasina. “Miss Thait, I hope you have recovered completely from your fall.”
“There was nothing to recover from, your lordship,” she answered tonelessly, refusing to look at him. “I am relieved to see that Rapscallion has suffered no lasting effects from his injury.”
Hoping that Tommi would be diverted by the Marquess, Parker urged Blackie to a faster pace and pulled ahead of the pair.
“Parker!” Thomasina called.
“Let the boy go ahead,” Longeton enjoined her as he drew Rapscallion nearer her mount. “We can see him and I can easily catch him if you feel it necessary.” He smiled at the look of total annoyance she threw at him.
“Don’t you feel you are neglecting your guests, your lordship?” Thomasina asked irritably.
“They appear well satisfied at the moment. As they are not my guests I shall not be unduly troubled about their comforts.”
“But-—”
“They are my grandmother’s guests. The duties I fulfil as host are to humour her,” he ended dryly.
“Do not overextend yourself on my behalf, Lord Br-—your lordship,” Thomasina caught herself. Irked at her near slip, she tapped her mount with the riding crop, causing it to break into a canter.
Longeton loosened Rapscallion’s reins and the stallion kept pace easily.
They passed Lord John and Dianna, whom Parker had joined. The boy called out, “A race. Let us race!”
The gentlemen, eager for a faster pace, joined in as did the
ladies except for Dianna. Lord George slowed his mount when he saw that she was not joining the gallop and paced his mount with hers.
“One would think they are in their salad days,” he quipped, motioning to those leaving them behind. “How very pleasant to have someone who enjoys a leisurely ride such as I do.”
Dianna blushed at the flattery but enjoyed it immensely.
“We shall arrive last, Miss Buckley, but who is to say our journey shall not be the more delightful?” Lord George said with a meaningful tap to his lightly powdered cheek.
Diana answered with a wavering smile. How pleasant he is, she thought. Not constantly frowning and scowling. A true gentleman in word and deed. If the Marquess were so attentive it would be far easier to bear the thought of marriage.
Biting her lip at the thought, she looked ahead at the galloping riders. Viscount Sherrad was gaining on Longeton, who was leading.
Oh, Mathew, what are we to do? she wondered despairingly.
“Miss Buckley, have I offended you?” Lord George implored with false sincerity.
“Of course not, my lord,” Dianna answered, her attention diverted on the other riders. “You are most ... amiable.”
With a knowledgeable, smirking smile, Lord George acknowledged the compliment. He settled back in his saddle thoroughly satisfied with his progress.
* * * *
After the excitement of the gallop and the exertion of the ride, the young ladies insisted upon resting. They partook of the cold luncheon that the Marchioness had sent ahead to the ruins with Lady Augusta and Lady Claymore. The footmen had arranged the tables for them in the shade of the trees on the east side of the ruins.
Thomasina was grateful for Mathew and Nicholas’ help in keeping Parker restrained from dashing among the ruins on his own.
The ladies restored and appetites satisfied, the party was ready to ramble through the ruins of the ancient hill fort. Taking Parker’s hand firmly in her own, Thomasina listened as Lady Claymore admonished everyone to stay together. The members of the exploring band were careful to follow the warning until out of the older ladies’ sight. As they walked further on, the band slowly separated as one pair then another trio voiced interests in different areas of the ruins.
Viscount Sherrad bent to whisper to Thomasina. Parker took advantage of the momentary distraction to break free of her grip and scamper over the earthen-work mound ahead of them.
“Drat!” Thomasina swore as she watched him dash from sight.
“I may catch him if I go around the earthen-works,” Mathew told her. “You see to it he doesn’t come back this way.”
,,Striding to the edge of the earthen-works as the Viscount ran to go around it, Thomasina caught sight of Parker scrambling through the rubble near one of the outer buildings.
He will be long gone by the time Mathew reaches that side, she thought. I had best try to follow and keep him within sight.
Rushing along the steep edge looking for a place to descend, Thomasina slipped and slid down the fifteen-foot embankment. She landed with a jarring thump. On her feet instantly, Thomasina ran forward contemplating the retribution she would extract from Parker for this escapade.
Parker saw her coming and charged off in the direction of a crumbling tower.
“Parker, come back this instant!” Thomasina shouted.
“Mathew, the tower,” she cried over her shoulder in the hope the Viscount was near enough to hear her.
The tower had once stood over forty feet tall but had slowly disintegrated. Now only twenty feet remained. Stones of all sizes littered the ground inside and out. The only remaining feature within it was a stone stairway that wound around the inner wall.
Parker was well over halfway up the stairs when Thomasina reached the tower’s entrance.
Her usual common sense had been thoroughly ruffled by the slide down the earthen-works and the awkward running over the stony ground in riding boots. Without a thought to the consequences she hiked her skirts up a bit higher and took the crumbling steps two at a time, intent upon capturing the boy.
Seeing Thomasina so near, Parker turned and halted. The stairs had a width of fifteen inches, but seeing the glint in Thomasina’s eyes, he decided to try and dodge past her.
“Tommi!”
The shout of her name drew both Thomasina’s and Parker’s eyes to the floor below. Longeton, his face creased with concern, stood in the centre glaring up at them.
Parker’s gaze swung from him to Thomasina and back. Bolting down the steps be brushed past Thomasina. When she grabbed for him he knocked her off balance.
For a moment Thomasina wavered as she fought to regain her equilibrium. Then a loose stone slipped from beneath her foot and sent her in a tumble of billowing petticoats towards the rock-strewn floor.
Terrified, Parker did not stop running when he realized Tommi was falling. Spurred by fear, he burst from the tower ruins, nearly levelling Mathew, who turned and gave chase.
Within the tower, Thomasina plummeted into the Marquess’ outstretched arms. Her landing caused him to be seated in a rather perfunctory manner upon the rocky floor.
Dust settled in small swirls about them as they sat staring at each other. Fear, concern, and astonishment mingled in their expressions. Parker, her parents’ deaths, his pride and restraint were forgotten. Both were mindless of all but the person now so near.
Slowly Longeton reached out and touched Thomasina’s cheek. “You are unharmed?” he asked in wonder.
“And you?” she returned on a whisper.
A force neither could control drew their lips together in a soft lingering kiss. The mystery of love held them in its tender web. Brutus drew her against his chest in a gentle embrace. Closing her eyes, Thomasina laid her head upon his shoulder, willing her mind free.
The fragile bond between the two was disturbed when the Marquess suddenly squirmed. Leaning back in his arms, Thomasina opened her eyes and encountered a broad grin upon Longeton’s usually sombre features.
“When I admonished you not to be a ‘green apple,’” he laughed softly, “I did not think you would next fall like an overripe pear!
“I must beg you rise, Tommi. We have not chosen a bed of goose down to rest upon.” He drew a sharp-edged stone from beneath his thigh as proof.
Voices from without shattered the remaining magic. Thomasina scrambled to her feet.
Pushing Parker before him, Viscount Sherrad strode into the tower. “Tommi, you are unhurt!” he exclaimed. “Parker said you had fallen from the stairs.” His eyes shifted to the rising Marquess.
“I have you to thank then, Lord Longeton,” Mathew said, releasing Parker and grasping the Marquess’ arm to assist him.
Inner turmoil kept Thomasina from looking at Longeton.
The Marquess couldn’t understand her refusal to look at him. His dilemma grew when she went to Mathew.
“Thank God, Longeton was here,” the viscount told her. “Are you certain no harm has come to you?”
Mutely, Thomasina nodded.
Holding her arm, the Viscount turned back to Longeton. “I thank you once again, my lord, for keeping Tommi from harm.”
The plea on Longeton’s face gradually hardened into an emotionless mask as he interpreted the meaning of Sherrad’s concern and Thomasina’s refusal to look at him.
He snatched his hat from the stone-littered floor and strode through the entryway before further words could be spoken.
Thomasina, whom everyone knew never cried, looked up at Mathew. Large tears brimmed on her lashes.
“Why would you not speak to him? Has he played falsely with your affections?” Mathew asked her gently.
She shook her head. A small sob escaped in answer.
Filled with compassion, he put his arms about her, trying to give comfort. “What has happened, Tommi?”
Raindrop tears followed one another slowly down her cheeks as she looked up. “It is ghastly,” she choke. “I think I love him.” A bitter sob wrenched fre
e.
Matthew held her close, patting her upon the back consolingly.
“Who is crying in there?” a high-pitched voice asked from without.
Mathew stiffened; he recognized the voice. He tried to step back but it was too late.
A gasp escaped from Dianna when she saw, Mathew’s arms about Thomasina. “Why ... why ...” she sputtered.
Lord George stuck his head around her to see what was about.
“Miss Thait took a nasty fall from the stairs and is quite shaken,” Sherrad explained icily as Thomasina stepped away from him. “Master Parker was the cause of it.”
The scrunch of stone against stone revealed the boy’s presence. He shifted from foot to foot nervously.
“Yes, yes,” Lord George said in a hollow imitation of belief.
“Are you quite all right, Miss Thait?” he asked perfunctorily, making certain Dianna had time to take in the red-flamed embarrassment upon Thomasina’s face.
“Dianna, you could help Tommi,” Sherrad said pointedly.
“I beg you not to be so familiar, Lord Sherrad,” Lord George admonished him. “You appear quite capable of ... helping Miss Thait.
“Miss Buckley, my arm.”
Placing her hand upon Sternbye’s proffered arm, Dianna cast a look of contemptuous anger at Thomasina and Mathew before allowing him to lead her from the tower.
Matthew’s features, angry and dismayed in turn, changed visibly as he watched the two depart.
“I am so sorry, Mathew.” A hint of bitterness and hopelessness crept into her voice. “I have ruined it all for you,” Thomasina said on the verge of tears once more.
“No, all is not lost—you shall see,” he comforted her and took her hand. “A skirmish lost does not lose the battle.”
“The battle was lost ere it began,” she answered.
He looked at her, searching for the meaning of her words.
Giving his hand a squeeze, she tried to smile. “I shall speak to Dianna—explain this.”
Mathew continued to stare at her; then he glanced at the figures of the retreating pair. “Perhaps you are correct, Tommi,” he said slowly. “There can be no victory if the battle is lost before it is begun. “Mayhaps,” he continued, turning to her and taking her other hand, “we should make our sham betrothal one in truth.”