‘Lady Crudgington is indeed a force of nature.’
‘And very curious. She left me determined to give you a thorough grilling.’
‘I suspected as much. But she was distracted by a fruit scone and clotted cream on the sideboard, so I managed to escape her clutches before I crept out. I can only cope with so much heat from the drawing room...and Mr Hargreaves.’ Gray might as well take advantage of her dislike for the man. ‘He brays when he laughs.’
The ghost of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. ‘Colonel Purbeck spits when he talks.’
‘Hence I stumbled across you shrouded like a widow.’
‘I’m sorry about that. It was most improper.’
‘Propriety is hardly a field it would be fair for me to judge you on and, anyway, it is vastly overrated. Don’t you think?’
Her fingers played with the dangling edges of the shawl as she glanced up at the cloudless sky and, inadvertently giving him more clues as to her character, she avoided answering his question. ‘Alas, I adore the sun, but it doesn’t adore me. With my fair skin, I burn easily, so I have to ration it. Hence the shroud.’
‘Then perhaps I should escort you back inside. The afternoon sun is always the worst.’
* * *
Prudence dictated that she should grasp the opportunity to escape inside seeing as he had offered it. It wasn’t proper for an unmarried lady to be in such a secluded place in the presence of a gentleman without a chaperon and she knew Harriet had no intention of coming back outside and wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near the garden if she suspected Thea was alone in it with Lord Gray. But her friend’s criticisms rankled and as much as Thea wanted to discount everything she had said, there was a great deal of truth in her words. She was becoming unacceptably jaded and had an ever-increasing suspicion of the motives of others. Since the smooth-talking soldier that dreadful night, she did make snap decisions about men and she did push them away. The fear of Impetuous Thea falling for a money-grabbing bounder, the huge responsibility of the unwieldy fortune her uncle had amassed on her behalf and the sense of responsibility and love she had for him had made her reluctant to consider anyone seriously.
To her shame, that reluctance had made her unacceptably stand-offish to the point where she risked never finding a decent man, and that simply wouldn’t do. Because one day when the time was right and the gentleman perfect, she did want to live happily ever after. She wanted to be loved and adored. Wanted to love and adore back. Wanted to fill her home with the happy sound of children laughing, the closeness of family and the promise of a future she could look forward to. Uncle Edward had insisted she have financial independence so that she could marry the man of her dreams without having to compromise as he had done. True love, he often waxed after a bit too much brandy, was the greatest joy in the world and worth all the hideous turmoil in the long run.
Somehow, while waiting patiently for true love to come, she had allowed those alarm bells to start clanging well before she got to know a gentleman, which made a lifetime of spinsterhood a foregone conclusion. If she had created the vicious circle, she could jolly well unmake it.
‘I suppose I can tolerate a little more sun.’ In a concerted effort not to be stand-offish and judgemental, she would be cordial and properly get to know this handsome new gentleman beyond his compelling, wolf-like eyes and splendid physique. Harriet was right. Aside from the fact he was local, he did live with an older relative as well, so might understand her situation. He was the first gentleman she had met in for ever who had not actively sought her out to begin with. They had met wholly by chance without the allure of her impressive bank balance, so perhaps she should give fate a fair crack at the whip before she wielded the repelling Shield of Suspicion. ‘Tell me something about yourself, Lord Gray.’
She could tell she had surprised him because his dark brows momentarily drew together. ‘What would you like to know?’
‘I suppose it makes sense to start at the beginning. Where did you grow up? Who are your family?’
‘Very close to the mountains of Snowdonia. My father was the Marquess of Talysarn.’
‘Was?’
‘He died a few years ago while I was at sea. My elder brother now holds the title.’
‘How sad. You missed the funeral?’
His face clouded and he paused before he answered. ‘Yes.’
‘Is your mother still alive?’
‘Alas, my mother died many years before. She was a lovely woman. I miss her greatly. You lost your parents young also, I believe?’
‘I have no memories of my mother. She died when I was a babe.’ Although Thea still missed her, wondering what her life and her character might have been like if she had grown up with a woman’s guidance. Probably less wilful and impetuous.
‘My father was a don at Cambridge. He taught mathematics and is still widely regarded in that field.’ Which was probably why he never quite understood his daughter. Thea had no head for figures and the only thing they had had in common was a boisterous sense of humour and their twin fiery tempers. ‘Did you go to Cambridge or Oxford?’
‘No... I went abroad.’
‘To study?’
‘After a fashion. I’m not much of a scholar, I’m afraid. I certainly have no head for numbers.’
‘Me either.’ They had something in common. Something deathly dull and inconsequential in common. ‘Aside from swimming scandalously naked with your dog, what do you enjoy?’ Why had she said that? Instantly her cheeks heated while she wrestled Impetuous Thea back into her box.
He shot her a sideways glance and chuckled, the deep sound warming her in places that had no right being warmed. ‘I thought we had drawn a veil over that. Or is the memory too awful for your tender sensibilities to forgive and forget?’ He was flirting. Despite refusing to meet his eye she could hear it in his voice, but she was already blushing and doubtless he could see it. What had made her bring it up again? He would think she couldn’t stop thinking about it, which was, of course, mortifyingly true. Aside from the memory of him naked, the wayward, wilful part of her nature was seriously considering swimming naked in the brook, too. It was ridiculously hot—even for July...
As if he could read her mind, he stared knowingly at her, the wretch. Better to acknowledge the discomfort head on and then brush it blithely aside. She was almost twenty-four, for goodness’ sake. Ladies of that age were expected to be a bit more worldly, no matter how well bred and proper they were.
‘I have forgotten it.’ Liar. ‘As much as one can forget such an outrageous anomaly so early in the day, especially as the day is nowhere near over yet and here you are again—being exactly where you shouldn’t be and encroaching on my privacy. Thankfully, it was a brief encounter, so therefore unlikely to make a lasting impression on my tender sensibilities. I am hopeful it will be nought but a distant memory by tomorrow.’ Gracious! Her true tartness had materialised out of nowhere when she had intended to be nothing but polite. Clearly she needed a much stronger padlock on the box around Lord Gray.
‘That is good to know. Nothing makes a man happier than knowing he is quickly forgettable. Especially when all his credentials have been laid bare for scrutiny. I shall sleep soundly tonight, secure in the knowledge the spectre of my bottom will not be encroaching on your dreams.’
It was funny that she could hear his smile. Funnier still that her own mouth was curving upwards, too, when this entire conversation was outrageous. Gloriously so. Not being immediately suspicious was liberating. ‘So shall I. For they would hardly be dreams, Lord Gray. I fear if your bottom scandalously encroached, surely, they would be nightmares at the very least. When one is as decrepit as I, one needs one’s beauty sleep.’ She was flirting! When she never flirted any more in case it gave untrustworthy men the wrong impression. This man clearly brought out the worst in her and she hardly knew him.
‘If
you got any more sleep, you’d be dangerous.’
‘Although I should warn you, I doubt Harriet and my uncle will allow me to forget the incident completely until they have fully had their fun at my expense...’ Had he just paid her a compliment? Thea gave up staring off into the distance and risked flicking him a glance. He was sat staring cockily right back at her. Utterly gorgeous, the seams of his coat straining slightly against the muscles of his folded arms, those unusual blue-grey eyes twinkling with mischief. Her heart did a little stutter at the sight. That and his scandalously pretty comment, which the sensible part of her cautioned was probably best ignored. Reacting would only encourage him, making him think she was interested, and she certainly didn’t want that. Just in case he was a bounder in wolf’s clothing. ‘Kindly repeat what you just said.’ So much for ignorance and disinterest. Impetuous, easily seduced Thea was loose and running roughshod all over the terrace.
‘I said, if you got any more sleep, you’d be dangerous. Obvious decrepitude aside, you are quite beautiful enough already, Miss Cranford. I’m not entirely sure I could cope with any more. I find myself already totally smitten with you.’
Internally she was sighing and was in grave danger of melting into a puddle at the man’s feet. He thought her beautiful. Was already smitten... How lovely. Of course, outwardly, she hoped she looked unimpressed because she was far too sensible to be waylaid by flowery words any more—no matter how lovely Impetuous Thea thought they were to hear. ‘Oh, my!’ She fluttered her hand in front of her face and batted her eyelashes. ‘What a swoon-worthy compliment! If only I hadn’t seen you similarly flirting with my aunt a short while ago, I’d be tempted to be flattered.’
‘There is a distinct difference. Your aunt flirted with me first and it would have been rude not to respond in kind. That was merely social flirting, Miss Cranford, and therefore innocuous. My flirting with you was wholly unsolicited and wholly spontaneous. It was genuine flirting.’ The arrogant grin suited him and Thea found herself enjoying it.
‘Ah—I see.’ She tapped her lip and attempted to look thoughtful, enjoying this unexpected sparring match with a man who met none of her strict criteria, but seemed to be able to pick the locks that bound the chains around the inner Thea’s locked box. ‘So if social flirting is innocuous, does that make genuine flirting noxious?’
‘It makes it dangerous. Especially when both of us engage in it as we are now. It hints at intent.’ He raised his dark eyebrow. ‘At promise...’
Instinctively, she folded her own arms, mirroring his casual pose. ‘I hardly think I am flirting, Lord Gray.’
‘Gray will do just fine. And you are most definitely flirting, Miss Cranford. I’m afraid I recognise all of the signs.’
‘Really? Pray enlighten me, for I confess I am at a loss.’
He shuffled closer on the bench and leaned in conspiratorially, smelling sinfully of sunshine and spicy cologne. ‘To the unobservant, it would be difficult to tell, but there are subtle clues. Your insistence on reminding me of this morning, for example. Unconsciously, despite all my very proper clothes, your mind is scandalously picturing me naked.’
She scoffed, bristling, wondering if he really could read her mind. ‘I most certainly am not! Ewwwgh!’ She shuddered for effect. ‘I can assure you my brain has far better things to think about than the unsavoury picture of you in the altogether, although even if I was, which I most definitely am not, a person’s private thoughts hardly constitute flirting.’
‘The coquettish side glances and pretty pink blushes which accompany them does.’
Thea turned her head and stared him dead in the eye. ‘I’m a redhead and if I am a bit pink, then I have clearly been in the sun a tad too long, my lord.’
‘A plausible denial, to be sure—but it doesn’t fool me. And I thought we agreed you could call me Gray going forward, seeing as you’ve seen me in the altogether? But...your preoccupations with my impressive, manly nude body aside, there are other damning clues which only a true connoisseur in the subtle art of flirting would pick up. A moment ago, for instance, when you brought your finger to your lips... Why, it was obvious you were doing so to purposely draw my eyes there and set me wondering if they are as soft and inviting as they look.’
She had touched her lips quite innocently, or so she had thought, but now they tingled. ‘You are delusional.’
‘Right now, we both know the position of your arms has only one true purpose.’
She didn’t unfold them. ‘To show you I am not a fool, nor suffer fools gladly?’
‘To display your figure to its best effect.’ She hastily uncrossed her arms and gathered the shawl tighter, irritated at the missish response when he reacted with a knowing chuckle. ‘And...’ The word came out in a sultry whisper as his head leaned closer still before he paused and failed to finish his sentence.
‘And?’
‘That was a test and, I’m sorry to tell you, you failed.’
‘I did?’
‘Indeed. Because you leaned closer, too, obviously eager to hear what I had to say despite my intimate, wholly inappropriate conversation and my close proximity to your unchaperoned person being most impertinent.’
‘You are impertinent.’
‘I am—but you’d like to kiss me regardless.’
She would—which came as a huge, unwelcome shock—but she most certainly wouldn’t.
Ever.
On principle.
‘Oh, Lord Gray, you are labouring under the most fanciful of misapprehensions.’ With purposeful, indifferent, possibly flirtatious slowness, Thea stood and shook her head pityingly. ‘Perhaps it is you who needs to be mindful of the sun’s rays and ration them going forward, for today they have clearly addled your mind.’
Chapter Five
‘Did you have to bring that dog?’ Lord Fennimore glared at Trefor’s rapidly wagging tail and grimaced.
‘Miss Cranford was very taken with him. I reasoned his presence would only help our cause.’
‘They won’t let him in the house.’
‘He will be perfectly content tied up outside for the duration of our visit. He loves to sleep in the sun.’ Unbidden, images of Miss Cranford lying in the garden instantly sprung to mind and he found himself smiling. Granted, flirting with her yesterday might well have been foolhardy and counterproductive to their mission—undeniably his superior would castigate him for the misdemeanour if he knew and a truly sensible spy would have avoided it—but Gray had enjoyed it immensely. She was tart, sharp and tasty. A glorious, intelligent and feisty armful and he would not regret the overwhelming, yet too-brief indulgence in the slightest. In that moment, it had felt right and life was too short for regrets. ‘Besides, as we are posing as country gentlemen, he gives us an air of the authentic. What says Suffolk more than two robust fellows striding across the fields with their faithful hound in tow?’
‘We could have ridden instead. It would have been a darn sight quicker than constantly stopping and waiting for that dog to continually sniff the air.’
‘Trefor is rusticating. Which is what we are supposed to be doing.’
They turned on to the Viscount’s short drive, both lapsing into silence as they mentally prepared themselves for the task in hand. Again last night they had meticulously gone over their backstory. Lord Fennimore was still convinced the closer Gray stuck to the truth of his past, the more chance he had of manoeuvring himself into Gislingham’s inner circle. With the Viscount’s extensive web of criminal contacts, it would be simple to make enquiries and the truth would be swiftly and categorically confirmed. Lord Graham Chadwick was a ne’er-do-well of the first order and had been since birth. He had lost his twenty thousand-pound inheritance at the gaming tables in just three short months. He had been understandably disowned by his only brother and his father, the upright and blemish-free Marquess of Talysarn, and then disappeared off to sea when
he had worn out his welcome and his line of credit in the capital. After that, nobody really knew what had happened to the lad...
Before the men had left for Suffolk, the necessary lies had been sprinkled among a few reliable government allies and in the browned pages of certain parish records. The errant Lord Gray had returned after a scandalous decade of adventuring and been taken under the wing of Lord Fennimore—a distant cousin of Gray’s dead mother—in the hope of encouraging him to tread the path of the respectable going forward. To that end, and to keep him away from the seductive mischief of town, Lord Fennimore had rented a property deep in the countryside.
Until yesterday, Gray had been entirely satisfied with the story. Now, despite knowing the filtered, censored truth was perfect for their purpose, he wasn’t so keen. Yesterday, Miss Cranford had asked about his past and, oddly ashamed, he had brushed over it. While no longer a wastrel, he had been. Once he had given up all hope of winning back Cecily, he had lived an aimless life doing whatever had pleased him. There had been no master plan, no commitments nor any responsibility. Once the pleasure in the place, the woman or the entertainment waned, he had moved on to seek diversion elsewhere. Whatever it took to make him forget the pain in his heart, he actively pursued it until the pain became an ache and eventually that ache became a scar. Bitter truths he had never admitted to anyone and never would. Better the world chastise him for being a wastrel than pity him for being a love-addled fool who hadn’t quite passed muster.
But such a past would make him more appealing to the crooked Viscount. As old Fennimore had rightly pointed out when he had suggested, over the soup, that they tweak the truth a little to mask the fact he had been home and almost respectable for two whole years: birds of a feather always flock together. A confirmed reprobate stood a greater chance of becoming a friend than an upstanding, reformed character. However, the same foibles which would make him more appealing to Gislingham would make him significantly less appealing to Gislingham’s lovely niece.
The Disgraceful Lord Gray Page 6
