by Anne O'Brien
‘And the bruise to her temple? Was that acquired on the same occasion?’
‘Yes.’
‘So how did poor Agnes come by these unfortunate injuries?’
The reply came with the swiftness of truth—or a carefully-thought-out plan of evasion. Lady Drusilla had no doubt which of the two ‘The paving stones in Cousin Jennifer’s garden were uneven and slippery after a shower of rain. It was a most unexpected accident. Cousin Jennifer was quite anxious.’
I imagine! ‘I see.’ Lady Drusilla gave up on her daughter, but determined to have a detailed conversation with Agnes Drew.
But Agnes with an eye to her mistress’s fine-drawn features, and her knowledge of the sleepless nights that caused Thea to prowl her bedchamber in the early hours, kept her own council. No point in worrying Lady Drusilla and drawing Thea into that lady’s line of fire. And of course Agnes could say with all honesty that she herself had never been to Burford Hall in her life.
So Thea entered once more into the round of pleasure offered by the London Season with apparent enthusiasm and carefree enjoyment. She was soon seen riding in Hyde Park, early in the morning and also at the hour of the fashionable promenade, although not on her usual grey mare. Sometimes she could be met when tooling her mother along the open carriageways in a smart tilbury with a fine highstepping bay gelding between the shafts. The deluge of invitations for the returned débutante ensured that she graced any number of parties, soirées and drums. The Exhibition at the Royal Academy found her in attendance with Lady Beatrice Faringdon and the Countess of Painscastle, who had welcomed her back with easy affection and a deep concern. She danced until dawn and waltzed at Almack’s with the Earl of Moreton, that particular gentleman both flattered and entranced by the return of the lady who had engaged his affections—Thea soon found herself the unwelcome recipient of flowers, books, a fine pair of gloves.
And could not but be overcome by a sharp guilt that she should be encouraging so honest a gentleman when her heart was in the keeping of another.
Lady Drusilla saw events moving in the exact direction that she had hoped and prayed for. Lord Nicholas Faringdon was fortunately no longer the object of Theodora’s affections. He had not been seen in town for some time and there was no suggestion that he would return. Meanwhile Theodora’s mama would wager any money that the Earl would declare himself within the month—in excellent time for them to arrange a most fashionable marriage before she and Sir Hector went on to St Petersburg. Thea would be well settled at last. Thus she informed Sir Hector of the delightful prospect, waving aside any objections when he expressed his undoubted satisfaction, but hoped that his wife would be kind enough to consider the state of his purse strings.
And Thea resigned herself. She liked the Earl well enough. Without doubt he would prove to be a most attractive and generous husband to satisfy the demands of all but the most exacting of young ladies. But the Earl’s face was not the face that troubled her dreams and robbed her of her appetite. His voice was not the one to shiver over her skin when she remembered his words of love and desire. The sight of his distant figure in a ballroom or at a reception did not bring an instant flush of warm colour to her cheeks. And his presence was not the one to steal her breath—or reduce her to burning indignation against all self-opinionated, arrogant and impossible members of the male sex.
If the interested household at Aymestry Manor considered Lord Nicholas to be a man in torment, they would not have been in any way surprised to discover that that was exactly the opinion formed by the Countess of Painscastle when she met Nicholas later in the month in Grosvenor Square. Judith eyed him speculatively as he descended the steps of the Faringdon town house and approached where she stood on her own doorstep, having returned from a visit to Lady Beatrice. She sent her nursemaid on into the house with the baby and waited. Judith had not thought that Nicholas was back in town. Although no one could have faulted his bow or his general address when he halted before her, he did not look entranced by the prospect of a few days in London society—or the pleasure of her own company, for that matter. Indeed, his lips were set in an uncompromising line and his eyes did not smile. After a few weeks of Thea’s brittle companionship, Judith believed that she knew the reason why.
What on earth is wrong with you two?
Since she knew that she would get a short answer if she asked the question of either of them, she decided to try a little cousinly manoeuvring.
‘Nicholas. I did not know you were in town.’ She gave him her kid-gloved hand to kiss and beamed at him, ignoring his lack of response. ‘Does Mama know?’
‘No. This is not a social visit.’
‘Oh, business!’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I am entertaining next week. Will you come?’
‘No.’
‘So what has happened to ruffle your feathers, Nick?’
‘Nothing other than a trivial misunderstanding.’
‘Oh.’ A trivial misunderstanding, indeed! Judith was not getting far here. She would try another tack.
‘Why are you here? What has dragged you away from Burford?’ She tapped his arm before he could respond. ‘Do try for more than a yes or no this time, dear Nicholas!’
At last he smiled. ‘Forgive me, Judith. I am ill humoured, but you should not have to suffer the consequences. I have been to Tattersalls. Horses for sale, you understand.’
‘Ah.’ Perfect! ‘Then you must come and talk to Simon. I believe he will part with his winning mare at last if the price is right.’
‘I may just do that.’
‘He’s over at Painscastle at present’—and Nicholas was not to know that the Earl was probably sitting in the library here in Grosvenor Square with his feet comfortably propped on a footstool and a glass of burgundy in his hand—’but will be here tomorrow. Come in the afternoon. We will have tea and you can tell me what makes you such dismal company.’
Nicholas winced at the prospect. ‘I believe that we can find something more entertaining to discuss. But, yes, I will be there.’
So now all Judith needed to do was to ensure that Simon be elsewhere (for there would be no opportunity for the discussion of horseflesh, if Judith had any say in the matter) and that Thea present herself for tea at exactly the same time as Nicholas arrived. Surely all the pair of them needed to do was to meet in relaxed surroundings where they could talk and sort out their differences. Two intelligent and attractive individuals who anyone could see were meant for each other. And once they had decided that the estrangement between them was not so serious as could not be remedied, then they would surely forgive her for interfering in their private affairs.
Besides, Judith decided as her worried gaze followed Nicholas to the entrance to the square, she was willing to risk all if it would wipe away the bleak unhappiness in their eyes when they thought no one was looking!
If they can only meet again.
Judith paced her withdrawing room on the afternoon of the following day, awaiting her two guests, who still lived in blissful ignorance of her devious intent.
I am certain all can be mended.
She was certain of no such thing. Theodora was undoubtedly enjoying the gratification of being one of the most sought-after débutantes of the Season. Her stamina was remarkable. But sometimes, when thinking herself unobserved, she was so sad. As if her heart was cold within her breast, untouched by the compliments and flattery, weighed down by its own secret sorrow. As for Nicholas! The expression on his face the previous day, before he noted his cousin watching him, had been both preoccupied and grave, austere even. Judith had never seen him look so distant.
She shook her head, refusing to accept the estrangement. All they needed was an opportunity to talk undisturbed. Which she had duly arranged. Now it was up to them. So why did she feel so uneasy? She had plotted the visit, in close discussion with her butler. Simon was instructed to be anywhere but Grosvenor Square for the duration of the afternoon. Thea was not to be announced, but instead allowed to come up alone
as a close friend might, which would give Nicholas no chance to think of excuses to neither see nor speak to the lady. Unless he was prepared to forgo good manners and beat a retreat. Most unlikely!
What could possibly go wrong?
Nicholas arrived promptly as arranged. Relaxed, amiable, charming, somewhat more forthcoming than on the previous day, he put himself out to entertain and indulge Judith in her love of gossip. But the shadows were still present to add a gloss of maturity to his features. Judith found herself glancing towards the door, her fingers clasped tightly in her lap to still their fidgeting.
‘Expecting someone, Ju?’
‘Why, no.’
‘Simon, perhaps? As that was the purpose of this visit, if you remember.’ Nicholas smiled indulgently, having no confidence in his cousin’s powers of recall.
‘Simon should be here within the half-hour,’ Judith assured him with a discreet lowering of lashes. ‘I advised him most strictly.’
A light knock sounded. At last! Judith silently cursed the deep flush that rose to her cheeks, to contrast with her russet curls. The door opened.
‘Your butler was very accommodating this afternoon, Judith. He told me to come up and announce myself. Perhaps he no longer disapproves quite so—’
Theodora came to an abrupt halt just inside the door. A delectable picture in a deep blue velvet spencer and silk bonnet trimmed with matching flowers and ribbons, her hands encased in a little sable muff against the chill breeze outside. It was nothing to the instant chill in the room. All the vivacity in her face fled, as if a bright candle had been snuffed out. The blood drained from her fair skin, leaving her pale, almost fragile.
‘Why, Thea—’ Judith jumped to her feet, her voice a little breathless ‘—is it not delightful? Look who has just come to town.’
Beside her, Nicholas, too, rose to his feet. It was impossible to read any expression there.
‘My lord.’ Thea inclined her head a very little. She did not smile. It was almost as if she were holding her breath.
‘Miss Wooton-Devereux.’ Nicholas executed a perfect bow, equally controlled. Equally severe.
And that was the end of their communication. Judith found herself standing between them, taken aback by the bleak divide.
‘Thea …’ Judith swallowed and launched in to her prepared speech ‘… Nicholas has just been telling me that he intended to call—’
‘I am quite certain that Lord Nicholas told you no such thing.’
Judith stammered to a halt. ‘But I know that—’
‘No, Judith. I know for a fact that Lord Nicholas has no intention of renewing his acquaintance with me. He has made the decision, and kindly informed me of it, that I am quite beneath his notice—my birth, my morals and my family all conspire against me. How strange that I was not previously aware of it.’
Judith looked desperately to Nicholas for help. Surely this could not be true!
‘I am amazed,’ Thea continued, ‘that Lord Nicholas has not apprised you of my many sins. I expect that he would not consider me fit to be your friend.’
‘No, Miss Wooton-Devereux, I have not in any way broached the matter to which you refer.’ Now Nicholas intervened in clipped tones, to come to Judith’s rescue, but not in any manner likely to reassure her of a mere trivial misunderstanding that might be healed—or to soothe the decidedly angry lady before him. ‘It would be beneath my dignity to discuss with anyone such an unfortunate situation as developed between us.’ He bowed again with magnificent disdain.
‘Unfortunate situation? If that is how you wish to continue to read it …’ Thea raised her brows, hostility in every line of her body.
‘I have no reason to read it differently. Our differences are plain. And nothing, as far as I am aware, has occurred since we last communicated to cast a more acceptable light on them.’
Thea concentrated on breathing. Could this be the lover who had held and kissed her? Who had declared his love and desire in so splendid a fashion that she would willingly cast all caution to the winds and lay naked in his arms?
‘I have not lied to you, my lord.’ All she could do was to repeat her previous assertions. ‘I have done nought with the intention of causing you any harm.’
‘So you say.’
‘I do. And I took your ill-timed advice. I have been to Whitchurch. I now have reason to see the … the unfortunate situation between us very differently.’
There was a little pause in the room, the tension close to snapping point with Judith still looking from one to the other in unabashed horror. Was this really happening in her withdrawing room?
‘So you have been to see him! It does not surprise me.’ Nicholas’s smile was cold and hard and bitter.
‘Yes. I told you that I would.’
‘And he told you his version of events.’
‘He told me how he interpreted the events that occurred between you, between his family and yours. Since you will not discuss it, my lord, I have to take his word on trust. I have no evidence to prove him either a liar or a charlatan. I should tell you that his description of events does not flatter the actions taken by you or by your brother.’
She ignored the gasp from Judith.
‘It would not, of course.’ A sneer curled Nicholas’s mouth. ‘And you will believe it.’
It felt to Thea that she was struggling through deep, dark water, swirling weeds grasping at her limbs to drag her down even deeper. Was there no way out of this morass of accusation and counter-accusation, when her heart cried out for one word of love from him, one softened look of sympathy and acceptance? Yet she kept her spine straight, her chin raised. She would not weaken before him.
‘Whatever happened in the past, does not involve me—has never involved me. I did nothing to bring harm to you or to those you love.’
‘Your family name is harm enough.’ There it was again. The simple statement of indisputable fact that would separate them irrevocably, whatever arguments Thea could find to use in her own defence. It was hopeless.
So be it. She forced her cold lips to form the words.
‘Since you continue to distrust me, my lord, to misrepresent my actions, to reject all that was said and promised between us, there is little point in me remaining here.’
‘Thea …’ He almost stretched out a hand to her. For an instant Nicholas thought, although of course he must be mistaken, that there was a sheen of tears in Thea’s beautiful eyes.
‘No.’ She blinked the forbidden moisture away. Definitely mistaken! ‘You have explained your position with perfect clarity. I understand and accept.’
‘Thea, listen …’ Forcing herself into action at last, Judith would have taken hold of her hand to pull her forward into the room. ‘Don’t go like this—let me—’ Anything to prevent her leaving in this fashion. Judith had no doubt at all of the hastily disguised sparkle of tears.
‘No. Forgive me, Judith, if I do not stay.’ The composure was quickly back in place, grief sternly governed. ‘Mama is expecting me. And then I have an engagement to visit Kew Gardens with Lord Moreton. I am sure you will accept my apologies. And for bringing so much unpleasantness into your home.’
‘If you must, of course …’ Judith frowned her distress.
‘My lord.’ A frigid little curtsy in his direction from Miss Theodora Wooton-Devereux, all formal protocol, gained by years of experience in the Royal Courts of Europe. It was a masterpiece. ‘Perhaps you will explain to your cousin the futility in setting up any future meeting between us.’
She hesitated at the door, turned back. And looked at him once more, her clear gaze holding his. Her voice was low, but she spoke without hesitation. No one could doubt her sincerity. It shook Nicholas to the core as the words struck home. ‘I loved you, Nicholas. You are the only man I ever loved. It hurts me—and my pride—to discover that you are just one of those arrogant Faringdons who will ride roughshod over any who do not measure up to your superior notions or opinions of your social rank and
status. It is a damnable situation.’ She did not even wince at borrowing from Sir Hector’s vocabulary. ‘You broke my heart, Nicholas. And I did not deserve it.’
And she left the room. Her firm footsteps echoed down the polished treads of the staircase, followed by the echo of soft voices as she addressed Agnes Drew in the entrance hall.
‘What?’ Judith found her voice at least and wheeled to face her cousin, accusation in every gesture. ‘What did she mean—about her birth—her family? Surely there is no question over her birth. She would seem entirely suitable for a Faringdon bride.’ She fisted her hands on her hips, looking remarkably like Lady Beatrice. ‘I understood barely half of that! What have you done to her, Nicholas? And when? Surely you have not seen her since you left town last? What can you possibly have said to her?’ She lifted her hands and let them fall in frustration. ‘In fact, I don’t understand any of this!’ she amended.
Nicholas flung away to the window to see Theodora walk out of the Square, Agnes in attendance, no hint of the ravaged emotions that tore at her in her graceful deportment and proud carriage of her head. He remembered the words she had used, the deliberate tense. She had loved him. And he had destroyed that love. Deliberately and effectively. Because she was a Baxendale. He should have felt satisfied, relieved that he had escaped the clutches of that accursed family. But in so doing he had hurt her, which rent his own heart to rags. His fingers clenched round the delicate jewelled circle still in his pocket. He should have restored it to her. What possible reason had he to keep it from her? But he could not. It was the only reminder that he loved Theodora and had once believed that she loved him. He turned his head away from the sight of her, his reactions more than a little compromised.
And he turned on Judith, the nearest target on which to vent his anger. ‘Why in God’s name do you instantly consider me to be at fault?’
‘She was so unhappy, Nicholas.’
‘And I, I suppose, am rejoicing?’ All the icy control was gone. Judith watched the stormy emotions. Oh, yes, he loved her. He wore his passion for Theodora like a dark cloak, all-embracing, shrouding all other emotions.
