Jo Beverley - Lady Beware

by Jo Beverley

  “I will be at the Winstanleys’ ball a week on Monday. There are to be fireworks at midnight.”

  “I could provide fireworks at midnight.”

  Her skin prickled. “Don’t be disgusting.”

  “It seems to be my nature. Eleven o’clock.”

  “The fireworks will be at midnight.”

  “A week on Monday, at eleven, I’ll be outside your house to escort you to the masquerade.”

  “Then I hope it pours with rain,” she said, and rode off at a canter.

  He came alongside. “You wish to get wet?”

  “Iwill be at the Winstanleys’ ball!”

  “Soon to miss the fireworks. Because a cruel goddess ordered rain.”

  She drew up. “You are a most infuriating man!”

  “I try. There’s no escape, Thea. This is my price if I’m to do your will.”

  Her scarf escaped again. She confined it again. “I’m only trying to persuade you for your own good!”

  “Then refuse my price and we’ll say no more of it.”

  “The same trick as last time,” she snapped.

  “I know when I hold a winning hand.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Thea, Goddess, believe this. I never bluff.”

  She believed him. She longed to leave him to sink, but she couldn’t. Her mother wouldn’t give up easily and her mother’s chief weapon was herself. But in addition, he truly did need to do this. And, drat the man, she cared.

  She tried reason. “It’s not even possible. If I made some excuse to stay home from the ball, do you think no one would notice if I left the house at that hour?”

  “Poor imprisoned princess.”

  “I’mnot imprisoned. But any house is guarded from intruders. What keeps some out keeps others in. How would you secretly leave your house at night?”

  He moved his horse into a walk. “With ease. My servants are few and go early to bed.”

  Keeping pace, she said, “Ours are many and don’t. Not all of them, at least. When the family is out, a footman waits in the hall for our return.”

  “Back doors?”

  “Servants sleep near them, and I suspect that at eleven o’clock some would still be up.”

  “What about the doors out into the garden?”

  “From the Garden Room?” She hadn’t thought of that. “But the garden is walled.”

  “There must be a way through the wall. The gardeners don’t tramp through the family’s part of the house, do they?”

  Resolute. Thickheadedly stubborn, more like. Her arguments felt like pelting a rock with ribbons.

  “The back wall of the gardens is part of the stables,” she realized with satisfaction, “and some of the grooms will certainly still be awake, waiting for the coach’s return.”

  “I lay odds there’s a way of sneaking through.”

  “I don’t care! I’m not sneaking out of my house at night.”

  “Why not?”

  She refused to answer. “I wish I’d never met you.”

  “A familiar feeling, I’m sure. But you need an adventure. You’re trapped by cobwebs that you could easily brush aside if you only believed it possible.”

  “Why on earth should Iwant to throw myself into danger?”

  “For the thrill of it?”

  She smiled triumphantly. “There you and I differ, Darien. I see no thrill in danger.”

  “You haven’t experienced enough danger to know.”

  “I’ve experienced you.”

  A glint in his laughing eyes suggested a great many responses not made. He spoke seriously. “I can keep you safe, Thea, even out at night. Do you believe that?”

  “From footpads, yes. From yourself, most emphatically, no.”

  “A point. What if I promise to behave as if I were your brother?”

  “Tease me to death?”

  “Poor sister. Don’t be a coward.”

  “Now that is a brotherly trick, I grant you. A very young brother.”

  “You never had a very young brother, so how would you know?”

  Thea let out a suppressed scream of frustration and rode off. Shewas trying to escape, but he came up beside and kept pace with a sense of leisurely ease. “If you don’t do this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” he called.

  “Absolute nonsense!”

  But his words struck home.

  When she considered her life thus far she saw nothing but the normal, the safe, the correct, and the sane. She’d not even galloped in the park before she’d met him.

  Never before had this seemed aflaw .

  Itwasn’t a flaw. She intended her future to match her past—normal, safe, correct, and sane. With that in mind, she slowed to a decorous pace.

  But Maddy’s words returned—oh to be gloriously insane, if only once.

  She drew up and eyed him. So handsome in his strong, scarred way. So…powerful. Yes, he could keep her safe. From others, at least.

  “If I made an excuse not to attend Lady Winstanley’s ball,” she heard herself say, “a headache, perhaps, my maid would still check on me.”

  “At eleven?” There was no hint of triumph in his voice. Oh, he was a clever dog. But mad, mad. And so was she.

  “No,” she admitted. “If I weren’t out, Harriet would probably be in bed by then. But my mother might come in when she returned.”

  Did she want a reason not to do this, or a reason to do it?

  “That would be in the early hours of the morning, and you might be back by then. If not, a bolster beneath your covers should do.”

  “You’re like a hawker, teasing people to buy tawdry rubbish.”

  “I understand the Opera House masquerades are a mix of people of all classes, tawdry to grand.”

  “And that is supposed to appeal to me?”

  “Come, now, are you really so top-lofty? You must have attended a masquerade before.”

  “No.” It suddenly seemed a shameful confession.

  “Poor princess. Escape your tower.”

  Thea felt as mixed up inside as churned cream. She knew she shouldn’t let him tease her into risk by childish dares, but he made her sound so dull.

  She saw a compromise. “Next Friday,” she said, “is Lady Harroving’s masquerade.”

  “Yes?” There was no way to read his tone.

  “I might…” She took the plunge. “I would be willing to attend that with you if you accept the Rogues’ help. If my mother allows,” she added hastily. “I’m not sneaking out of my house.”

  A glance showed complete inscrutability.

  “You’re offering pinchbeck for gold,” he said at last. “A respectable masquerade is not very daring.”

  “Only more or less respectable. Lady Harroving is only more or less respectable. My mother put the invitation aside.”

  “But if you wished to go, the duchess would permit it?”

  “Probably. You know you have to do this, Darien. You have no choice.”

  “Don’t overplay your hand, Goddess.”

  At his tone, she had the sense to fall silent. He really was on the edge of refusing, the stubborn, infuriating man. Which made the fact that he was on the edge of accepting fascinating.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why is this so important to you? Why will you do something you truly don’t want to do?”

  She thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said, “My brother.”

  “Marcus?”

  He laughed. “God, no. My younger brother, Frank.”

  “The naval officer?”

  He looked at her, his expression still withdrawn. “The duchess’s research?”

  “He’s in there, but Maria Vandeimen mentioned him. He’s no secret, is he?”

  “Not at all. Frank has fallen in love, but his beloved’s father will not permit a marriage to a Cave. I admit that not being shunned in every drawing room would be pleasant for me, but smoothing Frank’s path to marital bliss is my prime
motivation.”

  “That’s why you tried to force a betrothal,” she said, suddenly seeing the whole picture. “If you were betrothed to me, this other man could hardly object.”

  “Admiral Dynnevor. Not only wouldn’t he object, he’d probably rush his daughter to the altar, salivating at the idea of a connection to the Yeovils. But I let you talk me out of it.”

  That, too, was fascinating.

  “But it was never real, so wouldn’t it have been an underhanded trick?”

  “All’s fair in love and war, and this was both.”

  “Then why did you let me renegotiate?” she asked, watching him carefully.

  “A moment of weakness. You appear to have hit another one. Very well, I’ll endure the Rogues, and you will attend the Harroving masquerade. But if you enjoy it, you will then attend an Opera House one with me.”

  “You never give up, do you? How will you know if I enjoy it or not?”

  “I’ll trust your word.”

  Thea felt a spit of rain in the chilly wind. She didn’t think it was the first. She simply hadn’t noticed before. “Very well,” she said. They should hurry home, but she had one more question while he was in a mood to answer. “What will you do when this campaign is over? Marry?”

  “Too far a horizon. It’s going to pour. Let’s get out of the park, at least.”

  He raced toward the gates and she had to follow. They made it into the street before the true rain began, and to the Yeovil House stables before it poured. Grooms ran out to take the horses and one helped Thea down; then she and Darien ran into the coach house to catch their breath, both laughing.

  She stared at him. He was such a different person when he laughed, but she didn’t know which person was the real one.

  “Would you like to come in for breakfast?” she asked.

  “And drip all over the house?”

  “If you ride home from here you’ll get even wetter.”

  “It won’t be the first time. Let me know if your mother permits the masquerade.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then we’ll have to renegotiate.” He smiled at her as if he’d say more, but then dropped a quick kiss on her lips before striding out into the rain and remounting to ride away.

  She watched him, touching her lips. His had been cool and rain-damp, but the sizzle had been hot. Unfair, unfair, that he was able to do that.

  There were umbrellas in the stables and she used one to hurry into the house by the scullery door. Once in her room, she stripped off damp layers, trying to recall the morning, but catching only fragments.

  Challenge.

  Victory.

  Laughter.

  She didn’t truly want him to spend his time with the Rogues instead of with her. Then there was the new bargain they’d made. She picked at her breakfast, wishing her mother would rise sooner, but unsure whether she wanted permission to go to the masquerade or the protection of refusal.

  Impossible man!

  Chapter 23

  As soon as her mother had breakfasted, Thea went to her room.

  “You were out in this rain?” the duchess asked, looking at windows running with it.

  “It only started toward the end of the ride. The masquerade, Mama?”

  “Did you meet Darien by accident again?” her mother asked, clearly knowing it wasn’t so.

  “I asked him. I wanted to persuade him to use the Rogues’ help. I knew he’d be reluctant.”

  “Really? You’re coming to know him well.”

  Thea couldn’t interpret that, but she returned to the question. “May I attend the Harroving masquerade with him?”

  “I don’t see why not. Much more amusing for you than dinner at the Frogmortons’ and then the Ancient Music Society. And Darien will enjoy being anonymous for once.”

  Thea hadn’t thought of that. Was anonymity his main reason for insisting on a masquerade?

  “He’ll have to unmask at midnight,” she pointed out.

  “After being admired by many ladies. It’s hard to return to frosty disapproval after a thorough flirtation. He must wear the right costume, though. Something romantic but respectable. Do you think he will?”

  “I place no reliance on it. He might not be vile, but he is undoubtedly wicked.”

  Her mother’s brows shot up. “I thought you wanted to do this.”

  Thea sighed. “I do. I do. To an extent. But I’ll need to order a costume.”

  “A good costume takes time. There are a number of mine in the attics here.”

  “You’ve attended masquerades, Mama?”

  “Of course. I’ll just send a note to Darien about his choice and then we’ll see if any suits.” She sat at her desk to write a note. As she sanded the ink, she said, “A delightful entertainment when properly organized.”

  “Which Lady Harroving’s might not be.”

  “Maria Harroving is not quite as she should be, but I doubt she allows extremes in her house.” The duchess folded and sealed her letter and then turned to look at Thea. “I’m very sorry, dear. You truly have missed a great deal. I did think of bringing you to London in 1814, but you seemed young then and I never anticipated the problems to come.” She tapped the letter with one finger. “Do you think perhaps that our troubles have made you overcautious, dear?”

  Criticism from her mother, too? Thea’s cheeks heated, partly with anger. “If you mean that I prefer to act with propriety…”

  “I mean that you restrain yourself at an age where a little exuberance would be more natural.”

  “In other words, you wish I were like Maddy.”

  “Good heavens, no.” The duchess rose to hug her. “Never that, dear. But I fear that needing to be safe will trap you in a sad life.”

  “It seems to me that seeking danger would toss me into a sadder one.”

  Her mother grimaced in what might even be irritation. “You don’t understand, but perhaps a masquerade will show you. Let’s find you a costume.”

  The duchess sent a footman off with her letter, then summoned Harriet and two other maids. Thea trailed after, feeling abused. She behaved with good sense and propriety and gained the name the Great Untouchable. It had never been a compliment.

  Maddy was outrageous and she was popular.

  Now her mother, too, implied that she was overcautious and dull. Very well. She’d pick the most outrageous costume her mother had. She laughed at herself. As if her mother would ever have worn anything even close to outrageous.

  But, she resolved, if she did enjoy the Harroving masquerade she’d keep her promise. She’d sneak out of her house and go to a scandalous Opera House one with Vile Viscount Darien. And if it all came to disaster, it would be entirely her mother’s fault.

  Her mother unlocked a door in the top floor and entered a room stacked with boxes, many labeled “Costumes.”

  “So many,” Thea said, amazed.

  “Some are your father’s. And some Dare’s. Gravenham has never cared for masked events.”

  “Gravenham’s a dull dog.”

  “Thea!”

  The protest was probably only for saying it in front of the servants. Her oldest brother, who had the heir’s title of Marquess of Gravenham, was dull. She’d once pointed out that calling a child Gravenham from birth might be an oppressive influence. Her mother had replied that the duke had borne the same burden and not been dull at all.

  Thea remembered doubting that, but looking at the costume boxes she wondered if her parents had been exuberant when young.

  Had they kissed like…?

  Did they still kiss like…?

  She pushed those thoughts aside and helped the maids lift down the top boxes, beginning to be excited. This was like a treasure hunt, especially when she found gold coins.

  “What on earth is this?” she asked, seeing gold among the unbleached muslin wrapping in one box. She peeled back the muslin and blinked at a bodice of gaudy yellow and green satin with spangles of gold. The coins�
�light and false—were part of a belt.

  “Oh, my pirate wench’s costume!” the duchess said.