He couldn’t get into the laughing conversation going on around him, the teasing that centered on Katie’s yen to see Alaska in winter, and finally decided to write off this disquieting feeling as simple anxiety over the amount of work still remaining on the Boston project.
But then Thea looked over at him, catching his eye, and smiled a sweetly innocent and trusting smile.
His heart jerked and the unsettled feeling resolved itself into a startled awareness. He understood, suddenly, what his brothers had tried to warn him about, the danger he hadn’t foreseen.
Thea was in love with him.
Chapter Ten
“If you need anything at all, Thea, just ask Abbott. I’m leaving the BMW convertible for you to drive, if you want. Or Benson will take you anywhere you want to go.”
Except Boston.
Peter didn’t say that, but Thea knew it, nonetheless. It was implicit in the way he stood just inside the bedroom, ill at ease and anxious to leave, looking everywhere but at her. It was clear in the unimportant things he was saying and in all the important things he was leaving unsaid. He hadn’t even paused at the landing before turning toward the north ell of Braddock Hall, away from the family quarters, making her realize he didn’t consider her one of the family, even if she was his wife. So she had turned with him, toward the guest wing and the suite he’d had decorated for her, the bedroom where they had spent their wedding night. She’d known, though, even before he stated it, that he was leaving.
And that she wasn’t going with him.
Thea had known all along her little fantasy wouldn’t last. She’d told herself to be grateful for every minute of it and to be ready when it was over to keep her chin up and face the future, knowing she’d already had more happiness in this temporary marriage than she’d ever expected to have in all of her life. And still, when she’d seen the way Peter had looked at her downstairs, as if he’d suddenly, finally, realized his mistake, her heart had jerked to a stop and she hadn’t cared if it ever started beating again.
“I’ll be back Saturday for the Harvest Gala,” he said, as if the tension wasn’t awkward and unwieldy, as if everything was still the way it was before. “You can shop all week, until you find the perfect dress to wear.” His smile seemed forced, although the tender sadness in it was real enough. Peter was a gentleman. He’d never be cavalier about the end of their marriage, even if he was abruptly anxious to be free of the burden he’d taken on in making her his bride. “You could get your hair styled, too, Thea. I imagine Ainsley could tell you the best place to go in Providence. Of course, I’m not saying you should change it if you don’t want to, just that you might want to try something different.”
His voice ebbed fast and slow, trailing away at the end of his sentences as if he thought she might want to say something. But what was there to say? This wasn’t her decision to make. None of the ones that mattered to her ever were. Holding back a sigh, she walked to the window seat and leaned down to stroke Ally’s soft fur.
“It’s better this way, Thea,” he said sounding almost desperate. “I have to concentrate on the project this week and the fewer distractions I have, the better I can do that.”
Ally stretched lazily beneath Thea’s hand and began to purr.
“And I’m leaving for Boston now, tonight, so I can get an early start in the morning,” he continued. “You do understand, don’t you?”
More than she was ready to confess. But she didn’t want to make this difficult for him. He’d never been hers to keep, anyway. This past week had simply been his way of trying to show her she could be a desirable woman, that she deserved more out of life, that she could be different. He’d meant her no harm. And she had asked him to show her what love was like. It wasn’t his fault if she had learned a little more than he’d intended.
She looked up and offered him a ghost of a smile, which was the best she could manage under the circumstances. “I understand, Peter. Just go. I’ll be all right.” And she would. That was the good thing about never having much in the way of expectations. It was never a terrible shock when they failed to materialize. “Ally and the other cats and I will be fine.”
But still he stood there, looking uncomfortable. “The attorney may need to talk to you this week. His name is Chip Hansen. There may be some papers for you to sign. About your trust.”
She nodded and continued petting the cat.
“Chip may ask you some questions about…about our marriage. You can tell him the truth.”
“What kind of questions?”
He met her curious gaze, looked quickly away. “I think he may ask you if this is a…a real marriage. I told him that once the trust is broken, we’ll want to have the marriage annulled and I, well, I believe he just assumed it hadn’t been consummated.”
Thea felt a little like laughing because there probably wasn’t a person who knew her and Peter who wouldn’t assume the very same thing, who wouldn’t be shocked to their marrow to find out otherwise. “Does that make a difference?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think so. But I thought I should tell you the question probably will be asked.”
“Don’t worry, Peter. I won’t embarrass you.”
“Embarrass me? I was worried the question would embarrass you, Thea. I just didn’t want Chip to surprise you, that’s all.”
“All right,” she said, her emotions shifting from that first giddy glee that her marriage had been consummated to the sobering reality that soon her marriage would be wiped from the records as if it had never been. A mistake acknowledged and forgotten by everyone except her. “Wouldn’t we have to get a…a divorce, if we told the truth?”
“I don’t know. It might complicate things, but I don’t think it would seriously affect the outcome.”
And that was the bottom line. No matter who asked what question, no matter what she answered, the outcome would be the same. She would go back to being Thea Berenson again. As if she could ever be anyone else. “If Chip asks, I’ll tell him the marriage was never consummated. I’m certain he’ll believe me.”
Peter hesitated, started to say something else, then seemed to let it go. “So I’ll see you Saturday at the Harvest Gala, then. I may be late getting in so I’ll just meet you there.”
She didn’t want to go because there seemed no reason, now, to have to dread the social gathering all week. But she knew if she said so, he’d try to convince her it was important to go, important that she show off her new clothes and the new hairstyle he thought she would have by then. He wanted her to thumb her newly independent nose at the people who had ignored her in the past. Thea knew she could go as bare as Lady Godiva and hardly anyone would notice. She was high society’s ugly duckling and nothing was going to make her a swan.
But she couldn’t say that to Peter. “Yes,” she said as brightly as she could. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
His smile was nice and she thought if he’d only kiss her goodbye, she could pretend this was just like all the mornings this week when he’d finished his breakfast and left her behind in the apartment. See you tonight, he’d say, and she’d close the door and hug the promise close all day until he came back. But the world outside her window was already black with night and morning had long since come and gone.
“I need to go,” he said, his absence already hovering like an uninvited guest in the rose and golden room. “Goodbye, Thea.”
As the door closed behind him, her fingers dug too deeply into Ally’s underbelly and the calico objected with a huffy, “meow!” and a spat of claws. Thea pulled her hand back, seeing the blood beading up along her arm, feeling the sting and feeling badly that she’d caused the half-grown kitten any discomfort.
She knew Peter felt badly about having hurt her, too. But she suddenly wished she could have scratched him to let him know that no matter how good his intentions had been, he had hurt her and she did mind. Watching Ally lick her furry stomach and cast accusing glances, Thea thought it must feel good to lick your
wounds with a certain I-didn’t-deserve-that haughtiness, a definite you-should-be-more-careful dignity.
Turning from the window seat with sudden purpose, she walked into the dressing room and from there, into the closet. Her clothes—all the new things Peter had bought for her and the few things she had bought for herself—were hung or stacked in spacious nooks, put away with care by unseen hands while she had been at dinner. It was nice, she thought, to have help. At Grace Place, her grandmother had insisted she pick up after herself, create no messes and cause no one any extra work. If anyone had ever hung up her clothes for her before today, Thea certainly didn’t recall it.
Running her hands over the blended linens and silks, she felt the luxury of the fabrics, saw the quality of the colors and designs, and wondered why Davinia had never bought her a new dress. Had she been such a troublesome child that she deserved to wear only her mother’s ill-fitting leftovers? Had she been just a substitute daughter, a good, biddable Elizabeth, who did whatever she was asked in the hope that she’d be loved for her obedience? Or was she simply the unfortunate child who had been left behind to make amends for all the trouble, all the pain her mother had caused?
But that wasn’t fair.
A pool of indignance and anger rippled in the depths of her being and rose in a flood she couldn’t stem.
Peter was right. She did deserve better. She could be different. There were some decisions that mattered that were hers, and hers alone, to make. Grabbing the wedding dress, she pulled it off its padded hanger and carried it out to the dressing room, stripping off what she was already wearing as she went. But even before she stepped into the shell pink silk and pulled it up to her breasts, she knew it wasn’t the dress that had made the difference. Even with the gown half on, half off, and drooping from her shoulders in loose, corrugated folds, the woman who looked out from the mirror had changed.
She wasn’t beautiful. Or pretty. Her hair was a disaster. Her eyes looked wounded and wary.
But there was something resolute about the set of her shoulders, a new determination in the lift of her chin, and the beginning of confidence in the way she stood her ground, giving Thea fair warning that she would not be a wallflower anymore.
“WHY, THEA! You’ve cut your hair.” Ilsa Fairchild could hardly believe this was the same young woman. It wasn’t just the hair, which was no longer a frazzled, mousey brown, but a sleek fall that framed her face in a gleaming, dark-honey blond. She was wearing makeup. Not much, but enough to add a soft tint to her cheeks, highlight the perfect arch of her brows and emphasize her dark, coffee-brown eyes. Her clothes were stylishly old-fashioned, which suited her, and the colors were a muted blend of autumn pastels. Nothing too vivid, nothing attention-grabbing, and yet, heads turned to watch as Thea passed by. But the change went deeper than appearance. Much deeper.
“Hello, Mrs. Fairchild.” Thea smiled shyly and slid into the chair opposite Ilsa at the corner table. “I’ve never been to The Torrid Tomato. It’s a little…noisy, isn’t it?”
“It’s a lot noisy, but I love the atmosphere, and the artichoke dip appetizer, which I’ve already ordered for us.” Ilsa couldn’t stop staring at Thea, couldn’t imagine how, in just five days, such a change could have occurred. It was, she thought, a rather strong argument for the existence of fairy godmothers. In particular, one named Ainsley. “I don’t want to embarrass you, Thea, but you look gorgeous.”
Thea dipped her chin and the gleaming hair swung past her cheeks. “I hardly think gorgeous describes me, Mrs. Fairchild,” she said. “But thank you for noticing. I’m feeling a little more…confident today.”
“I should imagine you are. May I…” Ilsa hesitated. “Is it too gauche to ask if your husband is partly responsible for this…transformation?”
Thea blushed, but her chin came up with an attractive stubbornness. “Peter is responsible,” she said. “Even though he doesn’t know it.”
Hmm. That sounded like the stirring of possibilities. “Oh?” Ilsa said with a diplomatic smile. “I can’t believe, Thea, that Peter hasn’t noticed the change in you.”
“He’s in Boston.”
“Oh,” Ilsa said again, trying to decide what was going on with this couple. The week before they’d been in Boston together. Now Thea was here and Peter was staying in Boston alone. James seemed to think his son had finally realized just what he’d gotten himself into with this marriage. Archer thought Peter simply needed some time to think things through. Ainsley was convinced love was hovering on the horizon. Ilsa was starting to believe all three of them were right. “And you’ve obviously been keeping yourself busy while he’s gone. Ainsley has been bubbling over with excitement this week and being very mysterious about all the shopping trips the two of you have made. Now I can see why.”
“She’s been very helpful. We’ve had quite a time discovering the right style for me. I’m not sure we’ve hit it yet, but I couldn’t have done even this much without her.” Thea opened her menu, then closed it again, looking self-conscious. “I never realized how nice it could be to have a friend.”
Ilsa’s heart went out to her and she disliked Davinia Carey all the more. “I’m glad you’ve discovered that, Thea. Ainsley can’t say enough nice things about you.”
The curve of Thea’s smile was soft with pleasure. “I like her very much. She does talk a great deal, though, have you noticed?”
“Once or twice,” Ilsa said with dry humor. “She’s certainly enlivened the office since she started working with me.”
“She idolizes you, Mrs. Fairchild.”
“Please, call me Ilsa.”
“Ilsa.” Thea complied with obvious delight. “Ainsley says she doesn’t think you’ll be Mrs. Fairchild much longer, anyway.”
“As we just agreed, Ainsley talks a great deal and sometimes about things that really are not her business.”
Thea flushed. “I guess I shouldn’t have told you, but I’m so…pleased for you. I like Mr. Braddock.” She paused. “Mr. James Braddock. He’s been very nice to me while I’ve been staying at the Hall. Well, they’ve all been nice. Mr. Archer, too. And Abbott and Ruth. Bryce and Lara stay mostly in town or at their place in Watch Hill, but they’ve gone out of their way to make sure I’ve felt welcome at Braddock Hall. I haven’t talked to the chauffeur much because I’ve been driving myself all over the place.”
“Good for you, Thea.” Ilsa was delighted to see Thea finally coming into her own. “Peter must be so proud of you.”
Thea’s expression changed then, reverted for a moment to the awkward, unassertive girl she used to be. “That’s why I asked you to meet me for lunch. I…wanted to talk to you about Peter, Mrs. Fairchild. Ilsa.” She ran her finger down the edge of the menu, seeming to gather courage simply by taking her time. “Please don’t be upset, but I know you’re a…a matchmaker. And please don’t be mad at Ainsley because I knew even before she let it slip.”
Ilsa made a mental note to have the discretion-is-crucial talk with her apprentice one more time, even as she smiled encouragingly. “It’s not a state secret, Thea. I just try not to advertise it.”
Thea nodded. “I heard rumors a long time ago. It’s kind of funny, but at social events, people seem to forget I’m around and they’ll sometimes have the most private conversations where I can’t help but overhear. That’s how I knew you made a match for Christina Conrad a couple of years ago and for Patrick Simons just last year. I also heard that you set up the match for Angela Merchant when Peter broke up with her. And I know…well, I think you had a hand in both Adam’s and Bryce’s recent matches.”
It was Ilsa’s policy never to acknowledge or deny that sort of information, so she simply smiled and waited for Thea to continue.
“And well, it seemed to me that if you’d done that, you might have, probably had, chosen someone for…for Peter and it all got messed up when he took me to Angela’s wedding and…” Thea’s voice faded from soft to too soft to hear, but then came back with a poignant, “an
d I wanted you to know how sorry I am for getting Peter all mixed up in my problems and maybe…costing him a chance with the woman you’d chosen as his…his perfect match.”
Ilsa debated for perhaps half a second before she broke one of her own, cardinal rules. “I’m the one who should apologize to you for setting up that fateful date in the first place.” She saw Thea frown in confusion and decided Ainsley hadn’t confessed the whole, so perhaps her apprentice had some sense of discretion, after all. “Angela’s wedding was supposed to be the introduction of possibilities for the two of you.”
“The two of…us?” Thea asked, still mystified or simply unwilling to believe.
“Thea,” Ilsa said gently. “You are the woman I matched with Peter.”
With a startled blink, Thea opened her mouth, then closed it again. She reached for the glass of water on the table in front of her and took a long drink. “Why would you do that?” she asked finally.
“I deal in possibilities, Thea. I look for connections others miss. I saw both when I saw you and Peter together. Whether you were dancing or just talking, there was something there between the two of you. My intuition, which is my stock in trade, told me it was worth pursuing. So with Archer’s help, I set up that first date to Angela’s wedding. I can’t explain it any better than that I felt there were possibilities between you two. It was a feeling I had then, a feeling I still have now.”
Setting the glass of water back on the table, Thea gave a tremulous sigh. “Thank you,” she said, looking up. “I can’t imagine how you came to think I might…that Peter would…” She met Ilsa’s gaze. “But it means a lot to me that you did.” She pulled at her lower lip with her teeth, as if she were searching for words, trying to find the right ones. “I’m going to get an annulment,” she said. “I talked with the attorney about that yesterday.”
Ilsa’s heart sank, but she managed only a concerned little arching of her eyebrows. “An annulment?”
“I think it’s best. There was no need for us to get married in the first place except that I would never have had the courage to stand up to my grandmother if Peter hadn’t forced the issue. And please don’t misunderstand. I know this marriage was the best thing that ever could have happened to me and I’ll always be grateful to Peter for making such a sacrifice, but it’s not…not a real marriage and the sooner I’m out of his life, the sooner he can find the right woman. The sooner maybe you can make the right match for him.”
The Blacksheep's Arranged Marriage Page 17
