by Cheryl Holt
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She scowled and dithered. Should she blurt it out? After all, with whom could she discuss the issue? Not Hedley. Not his mother, Beatrice. Not her father. “Do you know an actress named Deirdre DuBois?”
“Oh, yes.”
“What does she look like?”
“She’s shapely and striking, with auburn hair and big blue eyes. She’s here tonight. You could have the butler point her out.”
“Is she wearing a red velvet gown?”
“I believe she is.”
He sat very still, clearly trying to impart a silent message he was desperate for her to receive, and she could hardly fail to receive it.
The woman clutching Hedley’s arm was his mistress! He’d embarrassed Theo by inviting her to Theo’s engagement party. On Christmas Eve, no less! With all of London society watching.
Was everyone laughing about it? What about her father? Why would he allow her to be publically humiliated? Didn’t he care? And what about Hedley? What kind of man treated his fiancée so reprehensibly?
She imagined years—nay, decades!—of misery ahead, and she felt sick to the marrow of her bones. She pushed back her chair and went to the window to stare outside.
For a long while, she peered out at the garden, but she couldn’t see much. There was no moon, and it was cloudy with a storm predicated for the next day. People were actually saying there might be snow on the ground on Christmas morning.
Once in her life, the prospect might have charmed her, but at the moment she couldn’t force herself to be glad about anything.
Ultimately, she glanced over her shoulder and inquired, “Should I marry Hedley? If I was your sister or your daughter, how would you reply?”
“I wouldn’t presume to advise you.”
“No, I don’t suppose you should.”
Yet from how he was observing her, she thought he probably was advising her. He exuded the most intimate aura, as if she was extraordinarily dear to him, as if she’d always known him, as if they’d always been friends. She could practically read his mind, and he was definitely communicating a dire command that she cry off.
She tried to envision herself marching into the ballroom, scolding Hedley, then her father. She tried to picture herself telling Beatrice that she’d raised a cruel, awful son and Theo wouldn’t have him for a husband if he was the last man on Earth.
But she doubted she could pull it off with any aplomb. Plus, she’d already accepted Hedley’s proposal, and their parents had signed the wedding contracts. After reaching that legal stage, she likely couldn’t back out even if she begged.
Her shoulders slumped with resignation. What a quandary! How was she to maneuver her way through it? She had no idea. Her father should have protected her, but he hadn’t. It was obvious he didn’t have her best interests at heart.
“What is your surname, Charles?” she asked.
“Didn’t I say?”
“No.”
“It’s Sinclair. Charles Sinclair.”
“Why are you sitting here in the dark all alone? I snuck in because I was despondent over the gossip I heard. What’s your excuse?”
“I was meeting someone.”
“Ooh…” She grinned. “Have I interrupted an assignation?”
“Apparently not. I don’t believe she’s coming.”
“Was she worth the wait?”
“Not really,” he said. “I brought her a goodbye gift.”
“Why? Was she leaving?”
“No. I had decided not to dally with her again.”
“Was she aware you were planning to break it off?”
He lifted a shoulder in a very French shrug. “Perhaps.”
“Is that why she never arrived?”
“I’m guessing it is.”
“Why are you parting with her?” she asked.
“Can your tender ears handle the truth?”
“I don’t know. Tell me, and we’ll see what happens.”
“We enjoyed a very illicit relationship, but she was growing clingy, and I can’t abide a clingy woman.”
“Well, then,” she sarcastically retorted, “I won’t ever grab hold of you.”
She turned to stare outside again, wondering what type of life he led. Men were so lucky. They could travel and waste money and participate in salacious liaisons, and no one cared how they acted.
Behind her, she heard him rise and approach. He stepped in so his body was touching hers all the way down. She’d never had a man stand so close before, and it was such a heady experience she was amazed her knees didn’t buckle.
“You’re very beautiful, Theo.” His warm breath brushed her neck, sending goose bumps cascading down her arms.
“You’re kind to say so.”
“I mean it. If Hedley ends up with you as his bride, you’ll be much more than he deserves.”
She peered back at him, and he was so near that her tummy swarmed with butterflies.
“You make me wish I were someone else,” she said.
“I’d take you away from here if I could.”
“What a lovely thought. Where would we go? If you could take me anywhere, where would it be?”
“Probably Paris. It’s my favorite city.”
“Would we live scandalously in a glorious flat that looked out on the Seine?”
“Absolutely.”
“And would we spend our days drinking expensive wine and eating delicious food?”
“Yes, and I’d dress you in gorgeous Parisian gowns and parade you about in the most public places so all the other men would be green with envy.”
“Have you ever done such a thing with a woman before? Have you flitted off to Paris to pursue a decadent affair?”
“Many times,” he bluntly admitted.
“Charles! You’re not serious.”
“Chérie, you shouldn’t ask a question if you might be uncomfortable with the answer.”
She scoffed at that. “You’re a libertine.”
“I might be.”
To her stunned surprise, he held out a small box. It was wrapped in pretty silver paper with a bow on the top.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Merry Christmas, Theo.”
“But what is it?”
“It’s a trifle. I intended it for my friend who never arrived, but I’d like you to have it instead.”
“It was her parting gift?”
“Yes. I’m always generous when I’m leaving.”
“I can’t possibly accept it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not appropriate,” she primly stated.
“Who is there to know what we do?”
“I will know.”
“Then we’ll merely pretend I’m giving it to you. I want to see how it looks on you.”
She should have refused, should have pushed him away and marched out, but she’d never had such a wicked encounter, and she couldn’t bear to have it end, particularly when—once it did—she’d have to return to the ballroom.
“Fine,” she said, “but we’re simply pretending.”
“Of course we are.”
She ripped at the paper and opened the box to discover an elegant necklace. She’d never been taught about precious gems, but she thought the pendant was a ruby set in a circle of diamonds.
“It’s exquisite, Charles,” she said. “Your friend will die when she learns what she missed.”
“Let me put it on you.” When she might have declined, he said, “We’re pretending, remember?”
She spun and dipped her head as he fixed the clasp in the back, the stone falling onto her bosom, the weight feeling just right. As she whirled to face him, he smiled with what she could only describe as extreme affection, as if he really, really liked her. Could it be?
She caressed the stone, wishing she had the temerity to keep it. She’d like to always have it—even if she never dared to wear it. She’d hide it in a drawer, and she’d take it out when she
was lonely or unhappy. She’d stroke her fingers across it and recall the magical night when he’d given it to her.
“It’s perfect on you,” he said.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
“Merry Christmas, Theo,” he said again.
“Merry Christmas, Charles.”
He leaned in and brushed his lips to hers, and she was so astonished she could have fainted from shock. It was her very first kiss, bestowed on Christmas Eve!
She should have been ashamed of herself, of her wanton behavior. After all, she was about to publicize her betrothal, but it seemed as if she was dreaming and the real world didn’t exist.
She turned to the window again, and he snuggled himself to her, so she could feel every inch of his torso pressed to her backside. He slid his arms around her waist, and he held her, the two of them gazing out at nothing.
“Oh, look, Charles,” she said after a bit, “it’s snowing. We’ll have snow on Christmas morning. Isn’t that wonderful?”
She glanced around, and he might have kissed her again—she was desperately hoping he would—but suddenly the door was flung open.
“Theodosia! Where are you? It’s time for the announcement.”
Theo gasped with alarm and stumbled away from him.
Hedley’s mother, Beatrice, was standing in the threshold, and she shrieked, “Theodosia!”
“Ah…ah…I can explain,” Theo hurriedly insisted.
“I don’t think you can!” Beatrice snapped, and she hissed at Charles, “Lord Trent! You devil! You dog! You cur! What have you done to Theodosia?”
“Hello, Beatrice. Fancy meeting you here.”
At hearing Charles addressed as Lord Trent, Theo blanched with horror, but he was thoroughly composed and even a tad amused.
“You’re Lord Trent?” Theo asked.
“Yes.”
Even in her small corner of England, there had been stories about him. He was the most notorious rogue in the kingdom. Over the years, he was rumored to have seduced a thousand girls. Every young lady was warned about cads, and in any such discussion, his name was always raised as an example of precisely the sort of roué to avoid.
He took her hand, dipped down, and kissed it.
“Adieu, chérie,” he murmured.
Theo yanked away as if she’d been burned.
“Lord Trent!” Beatrice bellowed. “Leave this room at once.”
“I will, Beatrice. There’s no need to shout. It appears I’ve interfered with Theo’s betrothal—and quite successfully too.”
Beatrice’s angry glower whipped to Theo. “Don’t you move a muscle. I’m going to fetch Hedley and your father. Don’t move!”
She hustled out, and Lord Trent spun to Theo. He was grinning, and he winked. Winked!
“Goodbye, Theo” he casually said. “It was lovely chatting with you.”
“Goodbye! What will happen to me?”
“If you play your cards right, you won’t have to marry Hedley.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you know? You’ve been caught in a compromising position—with the world’s most depraved scoundrel. In light of how awful a husband Hedley would have been, consider it my Christmas gift to you.”
“Oh, oh, this can’t be! My father will kill me.”
“Yes, he might, but he won’t be able to force Hedley on you, and I daresay Hedley won’t want you now. In fact, you won’t have to wed in the future ever—unless you choose to. A word of advice, chérie? Don’t trust your father on this topic. Make your own decision.”
“But…but…”
“Goodbye,” he said again, and he strolled out.
The expensive necklace was still circling her throat, and she was too dazed to remember it or to remind him. She sunk into her chair, grabbed her glass, and filled it to the rim with brandy. She swallowed a hefty gulp, then hunkered down to wait for whatever catastrophe was coming.
CHAPTER ONE
Three months later…
Theodosia stood in the middle of an Egyptian bazaar. The hot desert sun beat down, and the crowd swirled around her.
Even though she was away from England, she was dressed in what she viewed as a normal British costume such as she would wear on a cool, rainy autumn afternoon in London. But the heavy gown, shawl, bonnet, petticoat, stockings, shoes, and corset were totally inappropriate for the excessive temperature. Although she had a very hearty constitution, she truly wondered if she might faint.
The air was so heavy she couldn’t catch her breath, and as she studied the native women passing by, she couldn’t help but be jealous of their attire that appeared much more comfortable and thoroughly suited to the elements.
They’d been in Cairo for three days, and they were still settling into their hotel, so she hadn’t had a chance to acclimate to the climate or assess her wardrobe’s functionality. Yet clearly, changes would have to be made.
“Look, Theo.” Her cousin, Fenton, pointed to a booth. “Wouldn’t you like to have one of those scarves?”
“I would actually.”
“You could buy one for Mother too. Perhaps if we return with a gift, it will improve her mood.”
“Yes, it just might.”
Though Theo didn’t say so, she didn’t think anything could improve his mother’s mood. His mother was Theo’s aunt, Edna Wallace.
From the outset, the journey should have been an adventure. After all, they were on their way to tour the pyramids. First, they would tarry for a month at an archeological dig being run by Edna’s friend, Cedric Webster, who was a famous archeologist. Then they would sail even farther down the Nile to explore other ruins.
But the trip had been partially organized as an excuse for Theo to flee her scandal with Lord Trent. With gossip and disgrace spurring them to slink out of London—practically in the dead of night—the entire expedition had commenced on a sour note, so they probably shouldn’t have expected a good outcome.
The whole voyage, Edna had been grouchy and quarrelsome, and with their finally arriving, her disposition wasn’t any better. If a new scarf could have any effect, which Theo doubted very much, she was certainly ready to make the attempt.
She stepped to the booth where the scarves were piled high, the beautiful fabrics and colors so vibrant that she wished she could roll around on them merely to feel the silky textures on her skin.
It was a hard decision to select just one, and the vendor was eager to entice her. He kept showing her different and prettier designs, and ultimately she tried to walk away, but it only encouraged him. Apparently, he believed she was haggling over the price.
She wasn’t sure that was the case, but it seemed to be. She didn’t speak his language and he didn’t speak hers, and she chastised herself for getting immersed in a situation she couldn’t control or understand. Why had she presumed it was a sensible idea to leave the safety of the hotel and go shopping?
Their hours trapped at the hotel had been boring and stultifying. They’d languished on porches, fanning themselves and waiting for Edna to arrange for transport down the Nile. When Fenton had suggested a visit to the nearby market, Theo had jumped at the opportunity to join him, but they shouldn’t have ventured out.
She glanced around to inform him that their excursion was over. He should have been right behind her, but he wasn’t there, which was completely typical and she should have absolutely anticipated.
Fenton was ten, and he’d grown up in boarding schools in England while Edna had spent the years in India with her husband, Colonel Wallace.
The Colonel was recently deceased, Edna a widow, and she was struggling to figure out how to be a mother to Fenton, but he wasn’t interested in being mothered. He didn’t like to be told what to do, so they constantly bickered and snapped. Theo suspected too that he caused trouble merely to garner attention.
Edna hated to seem overly strict, so she ignored Fenton’s mischief. If Fenton had sneaked off and left Theo, it would simply be another prank in a long line
of pranks he wouldn’t stop playing.
She scanned the crowd and thought she saw him flitting away toward the street. At least she thought he was headed toward the street.
They’d been escorted to the bazaar by porters from the hotel who’d stayed in the courtyard by her rented chair so they could loaf in the shade under the trees. Fenton and Theo had entered the marketplace by themselves, but she was swiftly realizing she shouldn’t have been so reckless.
She hurried after Fenton, and the scarf vendor shouted comments that had to be curses. From her clothes and mannerisms, it was obvious she was a foreigner, so he’d likely hoped to cheat her and was angry he hadn’t had the chance.
That was the lesson Edna had ceaselessly imparted about Egypt. They weren’t to trust anyone, and every native person should be deemed capable of horrid behavior. Theo wasn’t so condemning in her opinion of the locals. So far, her interactions had been limited to employees at the hotel, and they’d been friendly and courteous and many of them were fluent in English. If wicked conduct was swirling, she hadn’t noticed.
She rushed along, being swept into the throng of people, but with her being just five-foot-five in her stockings, it was difficult to get her bearings. She assumed she’d see the stone arches that marked the entrance, but they never came into view.
For a moment, panic assailed her. She was alone at a bazaar in Cairo, without a maid or chaperone, and her sole male companion had abandoned her to her own devices. Fenton would be back at their rented chair, chortling with glee over how he’d tricked her.
But Theo wasn’t a flighty girl, wasn’t the type to panic. She was a very elderly twenty-three, and for most of her life, she’d been alone. Granted, it had been at her father’s Oakwood estate where she’d been an only child. With a deceased mother and an absent father, there’d been few adults to fret or boss.
She’d always set her own schedule, made her own plans, and kept her own appointments. She’d never had a servant trailing after her, and she wasn’t about to suffer an attack of the vapors simply because she’d been caught in an awkward situation.
She might suffer an attack of heat stroke though. The temperature was insanely hot, and she was perspiring, sweat dripping off her face. She slipped into an alcove where there was a bit of shade.
