Thea leaned forward, dropping her voice to say sweetly, “I am helping you, but you would be wise not to threaten me.”
She assumed the girl would back away. Instead, Lady Lila smiled, an expression that did not reach her eyes. “I do whatever I desire.” She then shut the door in Thea’s face.
Thea stared at the wood paneled door and decided right then and there that Neal would not choose Lady Lila.
Who was she to think everyone would jump to her bidding? Well, she’d just met her match.
It took Thea barely ten minutes to dress for dinner. She wore a simple lavender muslin with a demure lace neckline. She liked lavender. It reminded people that she was a widow and gave her an air of respectability that her relatively young age lacked.
When she went downstairs, she found Neal in the sitting room, lounging by the window reading a paper and enjoying a drink. When she entered the room he set the paper aside and rose to his feet.
If he was as interested in her as Mirabel claimed, she didn’t see it. He seemed friendly and cordial, his usual self.
“Well,” she said coming up to him, “what do you think of your prospects?” She took a seat in the chair next to his.
“They are all lovely young women,” he replied, returning to his chair.
“Some not so young. Lady Lila is five and twenty.” Thea had to point that out.
He nodded, took a sip of his drink. “The age of my sister,” he said. Thea wanted to groan, because he said it as if Lady Lila’s age was a credit to her chances.
“Sir James will be arriving on the morrow,” he told her.
“Sir James? I didn’t know he was coming,” Thea said.
“I’m surprised Lady Palmer didn’t tell you. He was supposed to ride with me today, but unfortunately business kept him in London.”
“It will be a pleasure to see him again,” Thea said.
There was a beat of long, uncomfortable silence. She realized an easiness with him was gone, banished by a budding sense of regret.
Perhaps she had been wrong in her thinking. She’d said she’d felt nothing but friendship that summer years ago, and yet his defecting without a reason had stayed with her. He’d hurt her more than if what she’d felt had been friendship alone.
The awkward silence was broken by the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Pomfrey and their daughter, Miss Susanne. Thea had no need to talk as they monopolized Neal.
Very shortly, Lord and Lady Montvale and their daughter joined the group. Lady Montvale was not happy to see the Pomfreys there but didn’t hesitate to elbow the Pomfreys aside.
Mirabel came up beside Thea. “Did you notice the elbow? Interesting how quickly friendship dies.”
“Imagine how it will be if he chooses one over the other,” Thea said.
“All I know is that when I return to London, I shall dine for a week on stories of hosting Vanessa Montvale and Sarah Pomfrey. My tale will be all the more delicious because of this little feud.” She smiled at Thea and then raised her voice. “Come, everyone, dinner is served. Lord Lyon, will you escort me to the table?”
“I would be honored, my lady.”
Mirabel’s chef had prepared an excellent repast of pheasant, venison, and numerous side dishes. There was one hastily cooked beef dish. Wine and cider flowed freely.
After dinner they all returned to the sitting room, where each young woman had the opportunity to show off her talents. Lady Cynthia did indeed have a lovely voice. Miss Susanne entertained them with a complicated piece for the pianoforte, Neal sitting beside her on the bench turning pages.
But the others sang and played instruments as well. Lady Lila had even brought her own violin and walked over to Neal as she played it. She stood in front of him, the music a mournful piece, which she turned into a lively jig.
If this had been another gathering, there might have been dancing, but since each young woman was in competition with the other, the atmosphere was rather tense.
Thea kept an eye on Neal. She told herself it was important she gauge his reaction to each candidate.
She also had a personal interest. She found herself hoping he chose exactly the wrong woman. Then she could label him as shallow, which would put a dent in the noble armor he wore in her mind.
For his part, Neal complimented everyone and managed to spend a few minutes of private conversation with each girl. However, he appeared happy when Mirabel announced that, with the hunt tomorrow, it would be an early day and perhaps they should all retire.
There was a comical moment when not one girl wished to leave before Neal and the others did. They all hovered around him. He was too polite to just leave, so it was up to Thea to extract him from the group. Everyone followed them up the stairs for the night.
Before he turned the corner to go to his room, Neal managed to place himself beside Thea. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“That was my wish,” she said brittlely. Yes, the girls were lovely and had impeccable bloodlines and connections—but their characters were sorely lacking. He must see that? Mustn’t he?
He glanced around. The two of them were at the crossway of the two halls. The fathers had gone immediately into their rooms. Their wives and daughters lingered by their doorways. A few of the girls even gave Neal little waves good night.
“And you have chosen well,” he whispered, conscious that they were being watched. “I don’t think I could fall in love with any of them. Thank you, Thea.”
He didn’t say those words happily, and Thea felt a great weight settle on her shoulders. He was pleased. “You are welcome, my lord.”
He nodded and went to his room. Thea watched him open his door and disappear inside, a hollow feeling inside her. Always before, she’d felt good about putting two people together, but not this time. Neal was making a mistake wanting to marry one of these women. She knew it.
And she also felt strangely deflated.
So she took her heart and closed it off.
Thea went on the hunt with those who wished to go. It was exhilarating to be on a horse again. She’d practically grown up on them but, of course, had not been riding in years.
Lady Lila truly was an outstanding horsewoman and kept up with Neal the whole way. But it was Lady Sophie with whom he spent a good deal of time. The two of them rode back to Bennington Abbey together and seemed to be enjoying their conversation.
Thea didn’t know who was the more jealous—Lady Lila or herself.
Neal’s face was relaxed, and Lady Sophie laughed with giddy pleasure. Thea knew he’d wanted a woman he could not love, but did that mean he’d wanted a ninny-headed one?
Nor did he and Lady Sophie part company when they returned to the house, even upon discovering Sir James had arrived. Of course, the lawyer could easily take care of himself. He knew most of the other guests and fit right into their company.
“Lyon is showing a decided preference,” Mirabel whispered in passing after dinner. “I would not have thought it. I spoke to Lady Sophie this morning over breakfast. She is not bright.”
“She’s kind,” Thea said.
“Damp praise,” Mirabel murmured.
Thea looked at her. “Do you mean ‘faint’ praise?”
A secret smile came to her friend’s lips. “That, too.” She leaned close. “Of course it shouldn’t matter to you.”
Did Mirabel see she was jealous? “It doesn’t.”
“Of course not,” Mirabel agreed smoothly. “That’s why you scowl every time you look in their direction.”
Thea’s immediate reaction was to school her features into a smile. She even lifted a hand to her forehead as if in thought, when in truth she wanted to be certain she didn’t have a frown line.
Mirabel chuckled. “Don’t worry. You are not the only one. We have a host of disgruntled women here.” She floated away to see to her
guests.
Thea crossed her arms. Mirabel was wrong. She didn’t give a care whom Neal chose.
Still, it wasn’t easy to watch Neal and Lady Sophie with their heads together over a game of cards after dinner. A part of Thea wanted to chide him over not paying more attention to the others. It seemed her responsibility. Then again, if she did approach him, would he think her jealous?
She stayed on her side of the room.
Lord Corkindale came up to her side. “My daughter is disappointed. She had thought there was a connection between herself and his lordship this afternoon.”
“There was,” Thea agreed. “She is a remarkable rider. Unfortunately, I have no control over whom Lord Lyon favors.” If she had, she would have pulled him away from Lady Sophie by now.
“She came here to win him,” Lord Corkindale answered. “Make no mistake of it. She will claim him.”
“I wish her happy hunting,” Thea replied, a comment that did not satisfy his lordship. He went off to repeat to his daughter what she’d said.
And Lord Corkindale wasn’t the only concerned parent. After Thea had dismissed her maid but before she could climb into her bed, she was visited by Lady Montvale and Mrs. Pomfrey. They knocked on her door together. Apparently, the threat of Lady Sophie had restored their friendship. Their concerns were very much along the lines of Lord Corkindale’s, and again, Thea had little help she could offer. “Lord Lyon is free to make his own decision.”
“But you must have some influence,” Mrs. Pomfrey insisted.
“When have you ever heard of the Lyon being easily influenced?” Thea said.
Annoyed with her response, the women left the room, their furious whispers of grievances following them out the door.
Thea sat on her bed with a sigh. Why had she ever agreed to this house party plan? It had been successful in the past, but this time, the stakes were too high. She’d never do it again. It was too stressful for all involved—except Neal.
She lay down with a yawn, but sleep eluded her. Sooner or later Neal should or would ask her opinion. And what would she say to him?
That the idea of marrying the silliest girl of the lot was ridiculous? Absolutely!
He wanted children. What kind of sons would such an airy girl give him?
Yes, that was the argument. She would appeal to Neal’s intelligence, knowing he would want the same for his children. Certainly any of the other candidates would be better than Lady Sophie.
Of course, the whole debate she was having with herself could prove fruitless. Neal might not ask her opinion, and she would be stewing about nothing.
With an impatient sound, Thea tossed the covers back. She needed a book or something to take her mind off the subject. Throwing on a dressing gown, she left the room.
A footman sat at a chair next to a candle. “May I help you, ma’am.”
“Can’t sleep,” she murmured. “I need a book.”
“Would you like a candle?”
“Yes, thank you.” She took the candle holder he offered and went down the stairs. The library was in the back of the house overlooking the garden.
Thea crossed to one of the bookshelves lining the wall, holding her candle up so she could see the titles—
A movement outside the window caught her attention. Taking a step closer, she saw a man’s silhouette against the moonlit garden.
Neal’s shadow.
There was no one else awake except for the two of them.
He stepped forward into the moonlight. He was wearing a shirt, opened at the neck, riding breeches and tall boots. He stood alone, a romantic, contemplative figure. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
Neal turned toward her, and Thea’s immediate reaction was to blow out the candle. She stepped away from the window, moving far enough that he couldn’t see her but she could watch him.
A terrible yearning rose in her. One she did not want to identify. That summer years ago, she’d lived for their meetings.
And now?
Now, she was a woman who’d been married, who understood desire and lust. She knew what she yearned for. She knew what she wanted. Her body ached for his touch, for him.
Thea shook her head and crossed her arms tight against her chest. Their lives had gone down different paths. Besides, if Neal had wanted her, he would have pursued.
He hadn’t.
He could pursue now. He wouldn’t.
And if she walked out into the night to him? If he opened his arms, would she be willing?
Thea turned and walked back to her room, her quest for a book forgotten.
Thea had been there in the library’s darkness.
Restless, feeling that the four walls of his room had been closing in on him, Neal had escaped out into the night garden, but he had not found any relief. He felt trapped. Closed in, even in the open air.
Then he’d caught sight of Thea in the library.
And he could breathe again.
She hadn’t lingered. He didn’t fool himself. He knew she had run from him. It was the right thing for her to do.
He’d run too if he could. Something was at work. Something over which he had no control and didn’t understand. He doubted if she understood as well.
This evening, he’d focused on Lady Sophie because she was simple and charming. She was also beautiful. The other young women were not only more competitive but also shrewder. He could feel them coveting him, his title and his money with their eyes.
But it was Thea he coveted. Thea, who effortlessly put the manners, the beauty, the personalities of these other women to shame. Thea, whose strength of character he admired.
Thea that he wanted to touch, to hold . . . to bed.
Margaret would tell him to leave now, but he couldn’t. God help him, he couldn’t.
There comes a time when every man must meet his destiny, and Neal realized his time was nigh.
Chapter Eight
“Good morning, Lord Lyon, I trust you slept well,” Mirabel said in greeting to Neal. She was sitting next to Sir James at the head of the dining table and had been the first to notice his presence. The room was busy with young women and their parents preparing their plates from the wide range of dishes set up on the sideboard.
The minute Mirabel issued her greeting, everyone turned to offer their own.
For a man accustomed to his privacy, it was a bit off-putting to have so much attention.
“There is a place to sit beside me,” Lady Lila offered. She was looking fetching in a dark blue riding habit trimmed in gold braid à la militaire. Neal knew it was the latest fashion, but he found it disconcerting to think of women dressed for military action rather than a pleasant ride in the country.
The plan for the day was a ride to an old church and picnic lunch. He thought of the work waiting for him back in London, the ledgers, the letters, the documents, and tried to smile. “Thank you,” he said.
“There is a place next to me as well,” Lady Cynthia said brightly.
“Thank you,” he replied, putting his attention to his breakfast. Thank you, thank you. Words that could keep him out of trouble. Of course, he’d noticed that one person wasn’t at breakfast yet—Thea. He thought to ask where she was, then stopped himself.
Such a request would not be appreciated by this audience.
Then, as if he’d conjured her, Thea appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t dressed for riding, and she appeared very tired. Her honey brown hair had been styled for simplicity, and her eyes were dark with concern.
And still, she was the most attractive, interesting, remarkable woman in the room. There was a presence about her, a character that none of the others had.
Her gaze met Neal’s for the briefest of moments, and then she announced, “I am so sorry, everyone, that I won’t be able to ride with you to the ruins today. Lady Sop
hie has taken violently ill, and I feel I must be here with her and her family.”
“Good heavens,” Mirabel said. “What is the matter with her?”
“We don’t know.”
“Shall we call for a doctor?” Mirabel asked.
“That might be necessary,” Thea said.
Neal carried a plate of food over to Thea. “Here,” he said. “Take a moment and eat. I’m certain Mirabel will see to the doctor.”
“That I will,” Mirabel replied and nodded for one of her footmen to come to her immediately.
“You can sit here,” Neal said, superseding a footman and pulling the chair next to Lady Lila out for her.
He sensed Thea’s first impulse was to refuse. “You won’t help anyone if you wear yourself out,” he added.
Her resistance vanished. She almost gratefully sank down in the chair with a murmured “Thank you.” He nodded for one of the footmen to pour a cup of tea for her.
Lady Lila cocked her head in reproof. “That chair was for you, my lord.”
“And how kind of you to hold it for me,” he answered. “However, I have put it to good use. After all, how can we enjoy a house party if one of our number is ill?”
“Perhaps something she ate didn’t settle well with her?” Mrs. Pomfrey said, buttering her toasted bread, a suggestion that made Mirabel’s eyes widen in alarm.
“If that were true, we would all be ill,” Mirabel said, looking to Thea for confirmation.
“Well, it’s unfortunate she won’t be able to ride with all of you today,” Lady Montvale said, no sadness in her voice at all.
Neal took his plate over to the empty chair next to Miss Cynthia Pomfrey. She gave him a pleasant smile before shooting a triumphant look at Lady Lila, and Neal felt like a bone being argued over by two dogs. Well, actually five dogs—while the one he wanted pointedly ignored him.
Thea didn’t linger over her meal but excused herself to see to Lady Sophie. Her glance had not come his way since he’d pulled out her chair.
Neal rose from the table, excusing himself, and caught up with her in the hall.
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