After bidding his hostess good night, Steyne went directly to the balcony over the entrance porch where he waited for close to half an hour before Theodosia joined him. She smiled composedly but did not apologize for her tardiness.
Without prelude he asked, “Are you going to marry him?”
“Marry whom?”
"That . . . that fellow, Mr. Oldbury.”
“You are as bad as Charlotte, Lord Steyne. For heaven’s sake, I’ve only met him. There is no question of marriage. From a girl of Charlotte’s age I might have expected such a flight of fancy, but not from you. And really,” she said, the gentleness in her voice softening the reproof, “it is no concern of yours.”
He stared at her for a moment before speaking. “There is no one to take an interest in your welfare. I think our . . . acquaintance from the past might allow me to give you some well-intentioned advice. True, I cannot see anything amiss with Mr. Oldbury but that is no excuse for rushing headlong into an irrevocable contract.”
“Were you listening to me, Lord Steyne?” she asked quietly. “Less than a week ago the children and I explored the church at Bicknoller, where we first met Mr. Oldbury. Several days later he brought some papers over for us to look at with regard to our search. Today we heard him preach in Channock and he returned with us to Charton Court. Those are the only occasions on which I have seen him; previous to them I did not even know of his existence. I presume this excessive concern with finding me a husband has to do with my advanced age and the possibility of poor Mr. Oldbury being my last chance to snare an eligible catch. He is an engaging gentleman, and I hope we will have the opportunity to meet again in future, but there is nothing more. Can I not make a friend without all this fuss?”
“You are being purposely obtuse. Mr. Oldbury is not thinking of you as a friend, any more than Edward is.”
Theodosia ran her hand along the top of the stone wall. “Lord Heythrop is young and confused. I hope you are not suggesting that I have in any way encouraged him. He has far too great a sense of his consequence to consider marrying me, and too great a sense of responsibility to try to seduce me. Poor dear, it leaves him in the very worst bind.”
Steyne surveyed her rueful face. “I don’t see how you can jest about it, Doe. The boy is like a moonstruck calf, following you with his eyes everywhere you go. Just what do you intend to do about it?”
“Well, I have no wish to leave, if that’s what you expect me in my generous-heartedness to do. He’ll get over it. I’ve been trying to push him toward Christina Winchmore. She would be a perfectly suitable match for him, and if I am not mistaken she has had the same idea for some time now.”
"So you have taken to orchestrating their lives, have you?”
The coolness of his tone only made her smile. “My dear sir, I think you have lost your sense of humor. There was a time you would have found the situation vastly diverting. Do you not recall . . .”
But a movement in the grounds had caught his eyes, and he motioned her to silence. As the figure approached the house, Steyne drew Theodosia back into the shadows, his arm about her shoulders as though for protection. There was something ungainly about the intruder, but not until he came close to the entrance porch were they able to distinguish the reason. The ragged clouds obscuring the moon parted briefly to disclose James—carrying a shovel! Without so much as a glance around him, he disposed of it by pushing it behind some shrubberies growing along the entrance porch wall. Afterward he dusted off his hands, stomped his boots against the wall and casually strolled toward the front door.
Theodosia’s brows were drawn down in a worried frown. “I don’t like that.”
Steyne immediately removed his arm from her shoulders and said stiffly, “I beg your pardon.”
“I wasn’t referring to your arm, my lord, but to Mr. Heythrop. I very much fear . . . But you are a friend of his and doubtless you would consider my fears groundless.”
“You think he’s been hunting for the treasure on the sly?”
Theodosia regarded him with incredulity. “How in heaven’s name do you know about the treasure?”
"I don’t know much. Amy said she couldn’t tell me about it, but I’ve read the inscriptions on the mantels. You may be jumping to a hasty conclusion about James.”
“I thought you would defend him. You don’t think it’s significant that he has just returned the poem and now we see him with a shovel skulking about?”
“He was hardly skulking, Doe. I can’t imagine James skulking,” he said thoughtfully, “but I grant you he was acting surreptitiously. What poem?”
Theodosia shivered. "I'm cold. If you will excuse me, Lord Steyne, I should like to go to my room.”
"I'll come with you.”
She thought he meant that he would accompany her, but when she opened her door and turned to say “Good night,” he impatiently entered with her. “You really can’t come in,” she protested.
“Don’t be missish, Doe. I am in. Now close the door and explain to me about the poem.”
Theodosia stood uncertain, rubbing her forehead and trying to decide what to do. Steyne closed the door and locked it, his dark eyes never leaving her face.
“I . . . I really can’t tell you Heythrop family secrets. You will have to ask James; perhaps he would be forthcoming, as you are his friend.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that. I’m not his friend, never have been, and certainly never intend to be.”
“Lord Steyne, it makes me nervous having the door locked,” she said unhappily, ignoring his reply.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Doe, I haven’t the least intention of harming you.” Angrily he unlocked the door but left it closed. “Is that better?”
“Somewhat, but I would prefer if you left.”
"I'm not going to leave until you explain to me."
“I can’t do that.”
Steyne disposed himself comfortably in one of a matching pair of comfortable Windsor chairs and said nothing.
If he was going to be stubborn, Theodosia could easily match him. “I am going to bed. You may as well leave.”
Steyne draped one elegantly clad leg over the other.
“Steyne, if it were my secret, I would be happy to explain to you, but it isn’t. Ask James, or even Edward. I will have to speak to Lady Eastwick about what we saw tonight. I won’t tell her you were with me.”
“You may tell her if you wish.”
“Well, I don’t wish. Now be a good fellow and run along . . . please.”
Steyne toyed with his watch fob and made no attempt to rise.
Exasperated, Theodosia went over to her bed where a nightdress was laid carefully across the folded-back coverlet. It was one of her prettier ones, a green ribbon woven through the eyelets, and she picked it up and took it with her into the study, closing the door rather vigorously after herself. There was no light in the second room and she quickly shed her dress and put the gown on over her chemise. In her agitation she had forgotten to bring a dressing gown as well, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Returning to her bedroom, she did not so much as glance at his lordship but went directly to her dressing table where she removed the pins from her hair and brushed it determinedly before tying it back with a ribbon. She washed her face and hands in the lukewarm water of the basin and dried herself thoroughly with a large, fluffy towel. For a minute she contemplated not brushing her teeth but decided that she must. Surely nothing could possibly be more inelegant than watching someone else brush her teeth.
Finished with her preparations, she calmly stepped to the lamp and extinguished it, making her way in the dark to her bed, where she climbed between the cold sheets and wished she had taken the time to heat them with the warming pan. Steyne had made no sound or movement during the whole, even when she extinguished the lamp, but she knew he was still there, not only because she had caught a glimpse of him in her mirror, but because she could feel his presence as clearly as though he were touching
her. Though she wished to lie very still in the bed to simulate sleep, she found her position exceedingly uncomfortable. What if he had fallen asleep and didn’t awaken until the maid brought her chocolate in the morning? That would lose her her job without a shadow of doubt.
Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed and nothing happened. Theodosia was accustomed to falling asleep almost directly she climbed into bed, but under the circumstances she was not surprised to be wide-awake, listening to her own heart pound. Could he hear it? No, of course not: She couldn’t hear his. Again she shifted restlessly in the usually comfortable bed. Why didn’t he leave?
Steyne was asking himself the same thing. She had totally outmaneuvered him and the only gentlemanly thing to do was give in gracefully, but he felt strangely reluctant to go. The brazenness of her tactics had at first astonished and then amused him. So that was what she would look like preparing for bed each night, with her bare feet padding along the carpet and her long brown hair falling almost to her waist. She had lovely ankles. He almost laughed when she turned away from him while she brushed her teeth. How ridiculous she was! Did she think seeing her do that would offend him? And did she care?
Being alone in a dark room with a desirable woman was working its mystique on him. Was she still desirable? His body very clearly told him she was. But so were dozens of other women. He hadn’t realized she was so stubborn. Imagine parading in front of him in her nightdress! It was beside the point that she looked beautiful in it; no one but a brazen hussy would behave so. It was—was it not?—a clear invitation. Yes, he told himself mournfully, a clear invitation for him to make himself disappear in the only manner she could think of to rid herself of his annoying presence. She had asked him to go; she had assured him that she could not share secrets which were not hers. Ordinarily he could respect that, but not from Doe. She should not have a will of her own, opposed to his. Had she not totally disrupted his life once already by exerting her will? And for what? To stay with that sanctimonious old man who neither treasured her nor enjoyed her company. Wrong-headed women made the worst possible mates. They were worse than spendthrift or vain or stupid or frivolous women. They made one’s life miserable, uncomfortable, exhausting.
When Steyne had completed this litany of evils, he became aware that there was a subtle change in the room. Was she crying? He would thrust aside his pride and comfort her. It had not been his object to distress her. But no. The sounds were not of stifled weeping or shuddering breath. Rather her breathing had become deeper, more regular. By God, the little minx had fallen asleep. How dare she? Steyne was tempted to shake her shoulder to waken her and tell her what he thought of her.
Instead he rose and, taking care there was no one to observe him as he came from her room, left her to her righteous sleep, remembering to lock the door after himself and push the key under the door.
* * * *
The sun was streaming through the window, glinting off the mirror and catching specks of dust in midair. The whole room seemed aglow with the light and warmth, and Theodosia thought sleepily that she was glad it wouldn’t be an overcast day, as she had feared when seeing the clouds the previous evening.
A horrid thought struck her and she peeked cautiously over the coverlet toward the Windsor chair. He was gone. How could she possibly have fallen asleep when he sat there, silent, disapproving? She sat up in bed, looking down at the nightdress and shaking her head at her own temerity in appearing in it in front of him. Of course, it had been a great deal darker last night, with only the lamp burning. Not at all as revealing as this morning’s sunlight.
Theodosia climbed out of bed and padded over to the door. He had locked it, thoughtful man, and she found the key at her feet. Since the maid would soon be coming with her chocolate, she unlocked it and left the key in the lock as usual, but, being up, she also retrieved her clothes from the study and dressed herself in a primrose jaconet round dress whose color was more flattering than the duller ones she ordinarily wore. But she made no further concessions in her toilette, dressing her hair as always and affixing a pelerine to disguise the low neckline of the dress.
There was time while she sipped her chocolate to make a list of the salient points the children had noted when each of them read the poem. Today especially, after seeing James with the shovel, she intended to push their hunt forward with all possible speed. Having some conception of his character, Theodosia felt sure he had no intention of turning the treasure over to the family if he found it. And what would his reaction be if Lady Eastwick or Edward spoke to him of his nighttime activities? A denial? A concocted story? Perhaps, Theodosia mused, it would be better not to confront him with the story at all.
Knowing what he was up to, and not letting him know that they knew, had distinct possibilities. If he found the treasure, they would have the opportunity to retrieve it from him with the least possible aggravation. If he didn’t find it, there would be considerable embarrassment saved. Theodosia was turning the alternatives over in her mind as she headed for the Breakfast Parlor and was so intent on her thoughts that she did not notice Steyne standing in the hall until she was almost upon him.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he informed her. His exaggerated air of indolence made it perfectly obvious that he had been waiting for a considerable time.
“I hope you don’t intend to badger me again about the treasure.”
“No.” Steyne had no intention either of apologizing for his behavior the previous evening. Having weighed the matter for some time on his own particular scales of justice, he was convinced that he had suffered sufficiently after returning to his room to serve as reparation for any misguided action on his part, without the necessity of knuckling under to his former (and obviously heartless) love. If she could so easily dismiss their previous affection, he thought she could as easily forgive his boorishness, possibly even expected it of him. She was probably surprised not to find him still in the chair when she woke in the morning! He pictured what she would look like as she woke from a peaceful sleep with the sun shining on her and her long brown hair cascading about her shoulders, the big brown eyes perhaps further softened by the haze of dreams. Had she dreamed of him? He stared at her as though the answer might be written on her face.
Theodosia cocked her head inquiringly. “Was there something in particular you wished to say, Lord Steyne?”
Recalled to his initial purpose, he cleared his throat and rasped, “Of course there was, or I would hardly have waited for you, would I?”
Instead of answering him in kind, which she could easily have done, Theodosia smiled. “Tell me.”
Why was she being so damned patient with him, he asked himself irrationally. If he was going to act like a boor, she should treat him like one. “I don’t think you should tell Lady Eastwick about James,” he replied in a lowered voice, remembering the possibility that his companion across the ball might be awake, though he thought it unlikely. He took Theodosia’s arm and guided her further down the hall.
"She will have to know, Lord Steyne. It would be unfair to ignore the episode. I am sorry if it reflects ill on your friend, but there are matters of more moment at stake . . .”
"I've told you he isn’t my friend.”
"But you haven’t told me why you are here with him, so I can only assume there is some connection between you which you feel might be jeopardized by his being called to account for his actions.” She regarded him speculatively for a moment, a scrutiny which made his dark eyes flash. Hesitantly she went on. "I will have to trust you, Lord Steyne. I’m sure you would not approve of James doing anything dishonest. It has occurred to me that it might be best if neither Lady Eastwick nor Edward mentioned anything to him, though I will of course tell them what I saw.”
“Have to” trust me, he roared inwardly. The fact that he had stood waiting for her in the hall for nearly an hour to suggest precisely what she was proposing had nothing to do with the matter. Since when did she “have to” trust him? That was the cru
x of their estrangement in the first place. She had never trusted him to know what was right for her, had never accepted that his age, his experience, his position, his, yes, his being a man were the only credentials he needed to proclaim the obvious truth—that she should leave her demanding, unloving father and make her life with him. Steyne found himself virtually speechless.
Theodosia was concerned by the way his face had suffused with color, rather as though he were choking. A muscle in his jaw jumped sporadically and the veins in his neck stood out rather prominently. "Do you think perhaps you should loosen your cravat, my lord?”
“No, I don’t, Miss Tremere! Don’t touch it” (as she reached to assist him) “It took the boy fifteen minutes to even make it presentable.”
“Don’t you do it yourself?’
“Not when I only have half a dozen of them with me.” Distracted from his useless rage, he resorted only to sarcasm. “So you have decided to trust me, have you? How very discriminating of you. And you’re not afraid I shall go directly to James and tell him the whole?"
“If you did, we would merely have to keep a sharper eye on him,” she returned with her usual practicality. “You do understand why I must tell Lady Eastwick, don’t you?’
“I believe I may truthfully say I have not understood anything you’ve ever done, ma’am.” The sardonic note remained in his voice and he regarded her with a blighting stare which had crushed innumerable impertinent pups over the years.
Its effect on Theodosia was to make her grin. “I won’t contradict you. Shall we go down to breakfast?"
“Together?"
Apparently she gave this incredulous query serious consideration, for she gazed furtively up and down the corridor before whispering, “You think someone will suspect? What is your usual arrangement, Lord Steyne? Does the lady go first and the man follow a few minutes later? I am open to suggestion.”
In My Lady's Chamber Page 13
