An awkward silence, made more pronounced by the excited chatter around them, descended as they made their way out of the theater and onto Catherine Street. Whitney strolled up to Lord Thortonberry, but Trent could not hear what they were saying over the sounds of clopping horse hooves, whistling wind and calls of farewells.
Whitney pulled Sutherland toward her and away from their group. “Darling, I’m freezing. Audrey, dear, make quick goodbyes and hurry to join us.”
Audrey nodded as Whitney and Sutherland walked a few feet up the row of carriages and disappeared into his.
The night was unusually cool, so when Audrey shivered Trent pulled her closer. The bright moonlight and blazing oil lanterns made spotting his carriage and Thortonberry’s easy enough. They stood one behind the other in the long row of carriages. He did not see Primwitty anywhere, but the duke understood Trent was on a mission and had likely headed home to Sally. Trent turned to dismiss Thortonberry since the man had not made a move to bid farewell. Thortonberry’s gaze lingered on the valley between Audrey’s breasts, exactly where Trent had stared earlier.
A fierce wave of possessiveness nearly choked him. He drew Audrey more firmly against his side. Her small frame pressed against his, and satisfaction coursed through him when she leaned into him and not away. When she swayed, he slid his hand to her back to steady her. The heat radiating off her skin singed his fingers and beckoned to areas of his body that needed to be oblivious to the soft feminine creature so near him.
With a ruthless determination born of hours of solitude in his small cell with nothing but darkness and a desire to live as his company, Trent turned his focus back to Thortonberry. “I’ve something I wish to say to Lady Audrey, Thortonberry. Alone. So good night.” Trent specifically eyed the man’s coachman, who stood waiting for the marquess.
Lord Thortonberry glowered at Trent before asking Audrey, “Do you need me to stay?”
Who the devil did Thortonberry think he was? Trent itched to smash his fist into the man’s smug face.
“That is quite all right,” Audrey replied. “I’m perfectly safe standing here on the street with Lord Davenport.”
A flash of the one time they had kissed filled his mind. Her creamy skin. The swell of her firm, warm flesh in his hands. Honeysuckle filling his lungs and her taste of honey and lemon filling his mouth with each velvet slide of her tongue against his. Hell and damnation, he wanted it again. He wanted her.
He blinked and focused on her face. The air nearly left his lungs. Her eyes shone with such utter trust the weight of it burrowed into his bones. Clearing his throat he said, “You can be assured the lady is safe in my company.” He would make it so, no matter how difficult it was.
Thortonberry nodded curtly. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Lady Audrey.”
“Tomorrow?” Trent demanded.
“Yes. Your cousin invited me to her picnic. It seems you could not attend, and she had games planned that require an even number, so she can match people in pairs. I volunteered to pair with you, Lady Audrey.”
“That’s kind of you, Lord Thortonberry.”
“Actually, I’m able to attend now,” Trent said, a tic in his jaw beating a furious tempo. “I suppose that means you can stay home.”
“Lord Davenport,” Audrey chided. “There is no need for you to stay home, Lord Thortonberry. I’m sure Whitney can invite one more person to even the numbers again.”
“It’s settled, then,” Thortonberry crooned, his eyes shining with glee. “I’d hate to miss a picnic with games.”
Trent balled his hands at his side. Bloody Thortonberry was a liar. The man shifted from foot to foot with a darting gaze. Typical of a liar. Thortonberry no more wanted to play games than Trent wanted to contract the plague.
With a nod, Thortonberry walked away. Trent stared at Audrey while trying to decide what to say. Her thick dark hair was swept up to expose the long, slender column of her neck. He wanted to press his lips to her silken skin. Instead, he swallowed hard and pushed the desire away. “I don’t want you to allow yourself to be alone with men like Thortonberry.”
“What sort of men should I allow myself to be alone with? Men like you?”
“Certainly not.” He tugged his cravat. It was too damned tight and the night was not near as cool as he had previously thought.
She took a deep breath, her breasts swelling upward invitingly. “Yet here we are, you and I―alone.”
Her husky voice slid over him like cool water on a humid summer day. Irresistibly tempting. He scowled at the way her luminescent eyes made him forget his purpose. “Do try to listen to me.”
She nodded.
He captured her gaze and held it, trying not to think how lovely her eyes were and how he could actually see little specks of gold in them. Blast and damn. Concentrate, man. “Thortonberry is a fox disguised as a puppy.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I think he is rather more like a puppy, cute and cuddly at that.”
He shifted uncomfortably. She was baiting him. What he needed was to watch her from a distance, yet she was forcing him to stick close to her. “Will you promise to partner with me tomorrow, and only me?”
Her mouth tugged into a grin. “That sounds perfect.”
He grunted. She had not promised nor rejected the idea. He had just been outmaneuvered by a slip of a woman. The other spies he had once worked with would have laughed their bloody heads off if they had been privy to this exchange. Wary he regarded Audrey, the large smile still firmly on her face made her dimples show. “Why are you grinning at me?”
“Because tonight I got the answer to my question.”
“What question was that?” God only knew, considering her complex mind.
“Oh, I’ll never tell,” she said breezily and brushed past him to walk toward Sutherland’s carriage.
A secret smile replaced her grin and that made him nervous. What answer could he have unknowingly placed in her mind? And was it correct? He caught her by the elbow just as she neared the carriage. “Audrey, I don’t want you to think―” Hell, this was hard. He couldn’t simply blurt out he didn’t want her to mistake that his intentions toward her had changed. “That is, just now, when I seemed to act possessive, I, I mean to say―”
“You were jealous?”
He nodded before he realized his idiotic confirmation would give her the complete wrong idea.
She squeezed his arm discreetly. “I know, and I’m so glad.” She scrambled into the carriage before he could stop her.
He watched the carriage disappear down the street. He had to get Thortonberry out of the picture quickly. Once that was accomplished, he would keep his distance from her even if it meant going abroad for a short time until she was married. The thought made his heart jerk peculiarly.
The next morning Audrey rose and chose her best walking dress made of French twill silk with cap sleeves that happened to be in Trent’s favorite shade of blue. The snug bodice with small crimson roses showed off her figure rather well, she hoped. She left her hair unbound but well brushed, grabbed her bonnet and raced out of her room and down the stairs to where her coachman was waiting to drive her to the picnic.
She loathed a confrontation with her father, but she needed to remind him she had an outing, lest he accuse her of being sneaky again. She made her way to his study and knocked on the closed door. “May I come in?”
“Yes, and shut the door behind you.” Her father’s tone was sharp, as usual. “No need for the gossiping servants to hear what I have to say.”
Audrey stepped into the room and forced a smile. “I’d say you’ve no worry of that since you’ve gotten rid of half the staff in the last month. I daresay the remaining servants have too much work to stand around eavesdropping.”
Her father’s mercurial black eyes sharpened. “Are you complaining?” he asked with deceptive calm. The red splotches on his cheeks gave his burgeoning temper away.
“No,” she said, sighing inwardly. She sat in one of the
two green velvet chairs across from his desk. “I’m sorry to interrupt you. I am about to depart and wanted to remind you I am going to Lady Whitney’s picnic. Ms. Frompington will serve as chaperone.” Ms. Frompington was nearly deaf and had terrible vision, which to Audrey made her the perfect chaperone.
Her father leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “Fine. I’ve something to discuss with you first.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. She did not want to be late for the picnic but there was no hope for it. “Yes, Father?” Making her voice meek was always a battle. Her will wanted to be bold but her head knew better.
“Mr. Shelton has asked for your hand in marriage, and I’ve told him you’ll accept at the Lionhursts’ fete.”
She stiffened in her chair; her father’s cold announcement unleashing a burning fury within her. The fete was less than two weeks away. “Father, please, if you hold any love for me, don’t ask me to marry Mr. Shelton. He’s twice my age and only wants to parade me as another prize he’s collected to his friends. He doesn’t love me. Good heavens, the man doesn’t even know me. We’ve not exchanged more than twenty words in the last year.”
Her father’s expression hardened. “I’m not asking you.” The words resounded around the room like a clap. “I’m telling you. And here is something else you need to understand. You’ve been nothing but trouble for years. You’re entering your fourth Season.” Disgust filled his tone. “You’re two and twenty and on the verge of being on the shelf. I won’t have it.” He slapped his palm against the desk. “I’ll not be burdened with you anymore.”
His words were like a smack across the face. With effort, she forced herself to shrug in mock resignation, though her hurt was so acute she wanted to run out of the room. Too many times, she’d attempted to gain his love. She was done trying. Clearing her throat, she prayed her voice would not tremble. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
His face turned crimson, and a vein pulsed at his right temple. “How else could I feel? You have turned down every decent offer of marriage that ever came your way.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say it was because she had never loved any of those men, but he wouldn’t care. Instead, she sat in stony silence and waited for him to speak.
“If it had not been for your mother, I would have forced you to marry long ago, but she begged me to let you chose your husband.” He raked a hand through his hair and stared at her with eyes glittering with anger.
“I had not realized you loved Mother enough to do anything she wished.” The accusation had flown from her lips without thought, but she didn’t care. A sense of recklessness gnawed at her as hot tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“Don’t disrespect me, girl.” His voice was as hard as granite. “For the last three years I’ve stood by and said little as you ruined your chances with suitor after suitor and even botched up the betrothal to that private investigator, Wentworth. How you managed to drive away a man so obviously desperate for a woman, I’ll never know―but you did.”
“We all have our special talents,” she said flippantly, falling back into her old habit of pretending his hurtful words did not bother her. What she really wanted to do was scream at him that she had never truly been engaged to Roger Wentworth because he did not exist. The contrived scheme had bought her temporary immunity from her father. Tense, she maintained her silence.
Tapping his fingers against the desk, her father continued to glare. “No doubt your tart tongue is the reason you’ve never married. Take Davenport for instance. You have now danced with him and Richard told me you sat by Davenport at the theater last night, but has the man called this morning to ask to properly court you?”
Audrey’s head pounded. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “It is early though to make calls.” How ridiculous her defense sounded.
Her father thumped the desk. “He won’t. Mark my words. I had stupidly hoped last night, but I realized this morning when I received the offer from Mr. Shelton that his was likely the best offer you will get.”
She lifted her chin. “I am going to see Lord Davenport at the picnic today.”
“Did he specifically ask you to meet him?”
“Well, no, but―”
“Foolish, stupid girl. Of course he did not. You live in a fantasy. Wake up.”
Audrey flinched at the cruel words that pierced too close to her secret doubts. Leave it to her father to know exactly how to hurt her most.
“Do you not wonder why he will not ask to court you?” His low, mocking tone battered her, yet somehow she managed to remain perfectly still. Her father laid his palms against his desk. “I’ll tell you why.” His voice had lost any pretense of niceness and came out as a snarl.
She refused to show fear. Staring him straight in the face she said, “Somehow I knew you would.” Her voice now trembled. Damn her father for succeeding in hurting her once again.
He pointed a finger at her. “A man like Davenport can have any woman he wants. He’ll never offer for you because he knows as a wife you’ll bring him misery with your tart tongue and willful ways. You are but a diversion to pass his time but never to chain himself to.”
A wave of hurt crashed over her, but she would never show her pain to her father. After a moment, she flicked an imaginary speck of dirt off her dress, then forced a smile. “If that’s truly what you think of me, it seems to me you should be a better friend to Mr. Shelton and not do him a disservice by agreeing to let me marry him. I better say no. Perhaps I shouldn’t marry at all but just live here and spare men my tart tongue.”
Her father rose and stormed around his desk to stand in front of her or rather loom over her. “You may have reached your majority but you’ll either obey me with reverence or leave my house. You’ll accept Mr. Shelton’s offer or else pack your bags and make your own way in the world.”
Frustration threatened to overwhelm her and make her say something that would really cause her problems. Instead, she clutched at her dress and stared down at her hands. What she wouldn’t give to shout at him that she would leave this instant and set out on her own. But she wasn’t stupid. If she was going to be forced to leave, she would buy as much time as possible. She was no simpering lady to sit idly by while her father shoved a life on her that she didn’t want. The fact that she was seriously contemplating leaving gave her a sense of self-control she had never felt. Resolve welled within her chest and rushed like blood through her veins.
Unfortunately, fear of the unknown future beat a fast path behind resolve and left her feeling as if she wanted to slump in the chair. She gripped the cushion of her seat and sat straighter. Unless a miracle happened or she left, misery would be a permanent part of her life.
Tilting her head back, she studied her father’s face. Lines of anger carved mercilessly into his forehead, around his eyes and at his mouth. There would be no changing his mind. Stubborn determination settled in her shoulders, leaving them tense as if she held a heavy weapon. “Can I go now? I am late for the picnic.”
“Go.” He looked down at his papers and waved a hand at her. “But resign yourself to the fact that you are to be married to Mr. Shelton.”
She marched out of her father’s door without a word. She would resign herself to no such thing, except the very real fact that she had little time left to make Trent realize he loved her or she would have to flee the only life she had ever known.
Under the bright sun and cloudless sky, Trent leaned against an enormous oak tree at Richmond Park and stared in Audrey and Thortonberry’s general direction. Something was amiss with her. She had arrived late and her eyes had appeared red and swollen, as if she had been crying. Then, before he could even approach her, Whitney had paired Audrey with Thortonberry for the ridiculous games. And now they were sharing a blanket for lunch.
Damnation. His plan to keep her away from Thortonberry was unraveling before his eyes. That was unacceptable. He would put himself between them. He pushed off the
rough tree trunk and as he did, Whitney rounded a hedge of high bushes, her green skirts swishing with her rapid pace and a few tendrils of her blond hair coming loose as she strode toward him. She motioned for him to stay. “I want to talk to you,” she called.
A few of her picnic guests swiveled around from their blankets to look at them, but they all turned away just as quickly, too busy enjoying their scones. Or maybe it was the scowl he could feel tightening his forehead that made them look away. He struggled to smooth his face and even smile at Lady Caroline and Sally, who had once again glanced his way. Lady Caroline smiled back, but Sally arched her eyebrows at him.
Whitney strolled up to him and gave him a sidelong glance before a smug smile fleetingly touched her lips. “You were staring at Audrey again.”
Some former spy he had become. He was making all kinds of mistakes and Audrey was the reason. “I wish you would not have invited Thortonberry,” he said, maneuvering the conversation away from what he had been doing.
“Then you should not have declined my original invitation to come to the picnic today,” she replied tartly. “As it is, you deciding to come caused me a great deal of trouble.” She averted her face, and Trent knew why. She did not want him to see her amused smile, but even with her head turned toward the pink, purple and yellow azaleas in bloom, the upturned corner of her mouth was impossible to miss.
“I had to scramble around early this morning to find another guest to invite, so that everyone could pair off for the scavenger hunt I have planned,” Whitney said, once again facing him.
Her face may not have shown a hint of the lies she was trying to feed him, but her fingers busily twirled a thin white ribbon hanging from her sleeve. Round and round she twined the ribbon until the tip of her index finger turned pink. He barely contained his laughter. Unbeknownst to her, she told him her story was false without ever uttering a confession. The busier a person’s hands became, the more they were attempting to hide. He had once watched a French spy who lost a message he was supposed to deliver to Trent from a guard at Saint Helena unravel the end of his overcoat while he attempted to offer false excuses for what had happened.
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