Unlacing Lady Thea

by Louise Allen

  Chapter Ten

  ‘And you will rest for at least two days?’

  Rhys gave a heavy sigh. Thea watched him suspiciously. He sounded as though he was reluctantly allowing himself to be persuaded. ‘Two nights, certainly. And you and Benton can explore the city, if he feels well enough. I’ll spend tomorrow lying down,’ Rhys added. ‘I’ll probably go mad with boredom, but it is no doubt sensible.’

  That was so unlike Rhys. Perhaps he really had changed with the years, for she would have sworn he would do anything rather than admit to weakness.

  ‘Giles says his headache is better already and the doctor does not think he has a concussion, so if you do not need us, it will be amusing to explore.’ She reached for a towel and tried to pat his hands dry.

  Rhys twitched it out of her grasp. ‘Don’t fuss, Thea. I’m indestructible—you should know that by now.’

  And yet you meekly agree to rest? ‘Don’t say that and tempt fate.’ She met his eyes, saw thoughts there she could not decipher and felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘I am sorry I burst in here when you were...had just got out of your bath. I had no wish to put you to the blush.’ Rhys raised one eyebrow and she laughed. ‘I suppose managing that is quite a challenge! But I made you uncomfortable, I know that.’

  It had certainly made her uncomfortable. The shock of seeing his elegant, muscled back, and then the realisation of how much those vicious bruises and splits across the skin must hurt, had left her dizzy with a mixture of desire, horror and admiration for Rhys’s stoicism.

  Thea got up and walked across to the bed where his shirt was laid ready. She found she was shivering. Perhaps it was delayed shock after the accident, or perhaps the realisation of just how much danger they had been in under that carriage. She let her fingertips trail over the soft linen. Yes, both those things, but most of all, the impact of finding herself alone with Rhys when he was almost naked.

  ‘You had better put this on. I’ll help you so you do not dislodge the dressings.’ She gathered it up in her hands as fiercely as she gathered her self-control and turned, her expression schooled into the one of slightly harassed practicality she knew he’d recognise.

  Rhys still sat on the edge of the table, which brought them almost eye to eye. He bent his head for her to drop the shirt over, then threaded his hands into the sleeves, a little clumsy because of the strapping. For some reason that made her vision blur with sudden tears. I might have lost him.

  Thea swallowed and reached to straighten the collar where it had rucked up at the back of his neck. With Rhys so close she could feel the warmth of his skin against her chest, see the laughter lines at the corner of his eyes, paler against his faintly tanned skin. What joys had caused that laughter? And what concerns had etched the faint lines between his brows and at the corners of his lips? Rhys had an entire, adult life she knew nothing of. Her fingers brushed the ends of his hair as she fussed with the collar.

  Her composure seemed to unravel as though he had tugged a string, and yet he had not moved or spoken. ‘I was worried about you,’ Thea said abruptly. Before she could think she was clinging to him, her arms tight around his neck, her face buried in his shirtfront. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled into the cloth. ‘But when the diligence collapsed I thought you were still under it.’

  Rhys closed his arms around her body and held her close. It must hurt him to hold me so, she thought, her senses filled with the scent of his damp skin, the Castile soap he had used in the bath, the smell of the liniment the doctor had applied. She felt him rest his cheek on the crown of her head and closed her eyes.

  When he spoke softly against her hair it was as though his voice resonated through to the soles of her feet. ‘You told me, when you were burrowing through the mud beneath my feet, that you trusted me to hold it up.’

  ‘I did. For as long as there was anyone under it, I knew you would, somehow. I knew I was safe, and the baby, too. But when we were out...’

  ‘Hush now.’ Rhys rocked her back and forth, gentler than she could ever remember him being. All her will-power seemed to ebb as his tenderness sapped it. She would weep in a moment, and she had to be strong. ‘We are all safe. Don’t think about what might have been or you will have nightmares.’

  ‘I know.’ Thea sniffed, determined not to let him see how affected she was by the touch of his body, the strength of his embrace.

  She felt his mouth move against her hair and knew he smiled. ‘Don’t you go crying on me now, Thea.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are sniffing.’ He chuckled. ‘Any other woman I have had in my arms would die rather than do anything so prosaic.’ Any other woman would be in his arms because he desired them. ‘No other woman I can think of would be so brave. All right now?’

  ‘Mmm.’ She loosened her stranglehold on his neck and leaned back against his linked arms to look up into his face, almost undone by that tribute. She had thought him angry with her, or, at the very least, that he had considered her foolhardy. She blinked back unshed tears, glad now she had not given in to them. ‘Thank you.’

  His lips were very close to hers. How had that happened? His breath was sweet—coffee and honey—and his lips were parted, his eyes intent and bright. She swayed closer as he lifted one hand to her hair, fumbled for the pins. What was he doing? His cut, bruised fingers lacked finesse, strands catching as the pins fell to the floor with tiny metallic sounds, and she felt the whole elegant construction unravel before the sliding weight was caught up in his palms.

  ‘Soft, brown, scented silk,’ he murmured.

  ‘Rhys?’

  ‘Thea.’ She saw the movement of his throat as he swallowed and his voice roughened as he said, ‘I wanted to see what it was like down. It is lovely, a living thing.’

  ‘Mousy,’ she protested.

  ‘Pretty mouse.’

  She took a deep breath and realised that she had been holding it ever since he had touched her hair. What is happening? One of us has to be sensible. ‘I think we have both had a shock today and probably we are not ourselves. Perhaps we should lie down before dinner.’

  For a moment she saw the thoughts behind his eyes quite clearly. He had interpreted that as an euphemism, believed for a moment that she was suggesting they lie down on his bed and... Please. Had she said that out loud?

  Then Rhys’s face became an expressionless mask. She stepped back and he opened his fingers, letting her hair fall around her shoulders.

  ‘That is a good idea.’ Rhys said. ‘Will you give Hodge whatever orders you think best about dinner? Tell him I am going to rest now and will not need him until just before it is served.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Thea stooped and raked together the little pile of pins, swinging the mass of hair over her shoulder. Pretty mouse... What is this? Is he flirting because there is another man with us now? Men are so foolish like that, so possessive and territorial. Oh, Rhys.

  What would he have done if she had not stepped back, if she had lifted her lips to his and claimed a kiss?

  He stood when she got to her feet, but did not turn as she left the room. Thea made herself walk with dignity, not take to her heels and flee as every instinct of self-preservation screamed at her to do.

  * * *

  Dinner was oddly unsettling. Perhaps it was because she had never eaten with Rhys in company like this. It felt as though they were a couple entertaining a guest, and that was too close to her foolish daydreams to be comfortable. Thea compensated by paying most of her attention to Giles, on whom a rest and the attentions of the doctor had worked wonders.

  No one, Thea decided as they exchanged impressions of Paris, would think he had been in an accident, hit on the head and half squashed under a stagecoach. He must be tougher than his slender frame suggested.

  ‘Is your post with Carstairs a permanent position, Benton?’ Rhys asked during a lull in conversation while the soup tureen was removed. He was a trifle paler than usual, and his hands were disfigured by the emerging bru
ises, but otherwise he seemed recovered. Perhaps she was imagining the strange watchfulness in his demeanour.

  ‘Yes, to my great good fortune. I spent some time assisting him last year, so he knows I will suit.’ Giles passed Thea the butter.

  ‘He will be an influential patron. Do you have ambitions in politics yourself?’

  ‘I hope for a seat in Parliament in a year or two, if I can convince his lordship and the party that I would be an asset. As you know yourself—’

  ‘Oh, let us not discuss me.’ Thea could have sworn Rhys threw Giles a warning glance. What was that about? ‘And you will reside in the household?’

  Thea shook her head slightly, but Rhys did not seem to notice. Really, he was interrogating poor Giles as though interviewing him for a position!

  ‘I have my own small town house, although Lady Carstairs has made a suite available for me in both the town house and at their country seat.’

  ‘How wonderful that both Lord and Lady Carstairs have such similar interests,’ Thea remarked before Rhys could enquire how much Giles was being paid or something equally intrusive. ‘So many couples in society appear to be completely distanced from each other.’

  ‘And that is a bad thing?’ Rhys enquired. ‘Most marriages are ones of convenience, not of shared interests. Or passions,’ he added sardonically. ‘I would not expect a wife to want to live in my pocket.’

  ‘I do not agree,’ Thea retorted. ‘That is another reason why I will not marry without lo—without affection. Do you not agree, Giles?’

  ‘I am completely in accord with you, Althea. Take the question of prison reform, which greatly interests Lady Carstairs...’

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, when the servants came in to clear for dessert, Thea realised they had been in earnest dialogue the entire time. Giles had tried to draw Rhys in from time to time, but, after a few near snubs, had apparently accepted that he did not want to talk about social policy.

  Guiltily she glanced across at Rhys and caught him with a look almost of approval on his face. It was odd, because Rhys must be completely bored by the conversation. As soon as he saw her watching him he raised a brow and assumed such an expression of innocence that she almost burst out laughing.

  He was up to something, the rogue—she remembered that look all too well. But what could he be plotting? A mystery. She contented herself with giving Rhys a reproving shake of the head. ‘Is there any shopping we can do for you tomorrow? Giles and I intend to visit the cathedral and then explore the town.’

  ‘And the shops by the sound of it.’

  ‘But, Rhys, this is Lyon. Silk! Surely you do not expect me to ignore the finest silk in France, if not in Europe?’

  ‘I expect Benton to return virtually on his knees, staggering under the weight of your purchases.’ He addressed Giles earnestly. ‘I recommend you take at least one sturdy footman with you unless you wish to set back your recovery by days.’

  ‘I will follow your advice, Denham, but I confess to finding industry of any sort of interest. I intend to take notes while Lady Althea makes her purchases.’

  ‘I would have thought you better employed advising her on the best green to suit the colour of her eyes,’ Rhys said, surprising Thea into silence and earning a startled look from Giles.

  * * *

  After Rhys’s haste to reach Lyon, he had slowed their journey to what seemed to Thea to be a crawl by contrast. At first she could not understand it, but after the first day from Lyon, as they set out for Valence and she quizzed him about it, he confessed with reluctance that he was feeling sore and battered and preferred to take it easy.

  ‘If you did not ride, you would be more rested,’ she said, wishing she dared ask him to let her check his back, or call the doctor. This willingness to admit weakness was so unlike Rhys.

  ‘You want me to act as gooseberry?’ he enquired.

  ‘Whatever do you mean? You are most welcome to ride in the chaise! I hardly feel that I am on such terms with Giles as to lead you to think you would be intruding upon anything.’

  ‘Whoa!’ He held up a hand to ward off the vehemence of her protests. ‘I am not suggesting you have set up a flirtation with Benton and require a chaperon.’ He studied her face and Thea felt her colour rising under the scrutiny. ‘Hmm...on second thought, are you perhaps protesting too much?’

  ‘Ridiculous man,’ Thea muttered. ‘Of course I am not flirting with Giles, merely enjoying his conversation and company. I do not flirt and, even if I did, Giles is too serious for that. Thank goodness,’ she added.

  Giles was indeed rather serious and, although intelligent, he lacked Rhys’s sharp wit, but she was coming to like him very much. But surely neither man thought she was falling for Giles? She shot Rhys an anxious look from beneath her lashes. How could any woman fall for Giles Benton when there was Rhys Denham riding beside their carriage? Though she could hardly put forward that argument.

  ‘You are blushing,’ Rhys remarked. ‘I will say no more. I have no wish to squash up in the chaise with you. The couple I was referring to are your maid and my valet—I foresee a wedding in the offing. At least, I trust one will be forthcoming.’

  ‘Polly and Hodge? My goodness.’ How had she not seen that developing? ‘It would probably be a good idea if they were not alone for so long, in that case.’ Hypocrite. Why can’t my maid enjoy a flirtation—it is what I want for myself after all. Flirtation and rather more. But how reliable was Hodge where women were concerned?

  ‘You may go and chaperon them if you wish,’ Rhys said with a shrug. ‘But I prefer the fresh air. Besides, my back may be stiff, but the exercise is good for it.’

  * * *

  Rhys’s teasing made Thea self-conscious for a while, but Giles appeared not to find any awkwardness in being alone with her, and the unrolling countryside and the drama of the Rhone flowing beside the road were so engrossing that she forgot to be distant with him.

  ‘À Valence le midi commence,’ Giles said as they clattered though the gates of the town. ‘That is all I recall from my lessons, I am afraid, but it is true—I think we are finally in the south. Look how shallow the pitch of the roofs is now—no need to shed the snow here.’

  ‘And the air is warm, even though it is evening.’ They climbed down and waited for the coach to pull up alongside in the inn courtyard. Thea drew a welcome breath of warm, scented air deep into her lungs and watched Rhys with what she hoped was well-concealed anxiety, but he swung down out of the saddle without any sign of discomfort.

  ‘I cannot wait to explore,’ she said as he walked across. ‘There is the river and a Roman amphitheatre....’ The joy of this freedom to experience new things, to form opinions, to share impressions, made her feel like a hot-air balloon, soaring free. I am never going back, I am never going to accept I am fit for nothing but blind convention and obedience.

  ‘Fascinating, I am sure, but I have a letter of invitation from an old friend of my family, a French émigré who returned once things became stable. I was going to drop in and see if I could take pot luck on dinner. Why don’t you and Benton explore the town this evening?’

  ‘Of course, if Giles would like to do that.’ Thea did her best to sound enthusiastic, but it was a disappointment. She and Rhys never seemed to spend any time together now. Since Paris, he had ridden, and it was almost as though he was using Giles as an excuse not to be alone with her.

  But she had promised not to expect to be entertained, not to want to be taken about in the evening. No doubt Rhys was delighted she had some company and a reliable escort.

  ‘If I could have a word with you before you go out, Denham,’ she heard Giles say as Polly came up with her dressing case.

  ‘Let us go in,’ Thea urged her. Probably Giles wanted to discuss paying his share of the expenses. He had mentioned it in the carriage and she knew he felt awkward about accepting Rhys’s hospitality to this extent. She just hoped Rhys had the tact to allow him to pay a share.

  *
* *

  Giles was unusually silent that evening as they made their way along the riverbank under the spreading lime trees. Thea hugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders against the cool breeze from the water and hoped Rhys had not snubbed Giles’s efforts to pay his way. Perhaps she should say something. ‘Rhys can be a trifle...lordly,’ she began and then wondered how to go on.

  ‘I have not found him so,’ Giles said. ‘He has surprised me by how encouraging he has been.’

  Thea had not noticed any encouragement. Perhaps the two men talked into the night after she had retired. ‘Indeed?’ she said with what she hoped was an encouraging intonation.

  ‘Normally I would not presume...certainly not after such a brief acquaintance.’ He stopped midsentence in front of a bench. ‘This may be too soon and yet... Perhaps you could sit down, Althea. Let me brush these dead leaves away.’

  Mystified, she did as he asked, although a hard wooden bench after hours sitting in the carriage was not what she had hoped for. ‘Is there a problem? Forgive me for mentioning it, but is it money that is concerning you?’

  ‘Money?’ He seemed completely thrown off his stride. ‘No indeed. I am more than capable of maintaining a wife and a household. As well as my salary I have a private income sufficient to keep a separate household from Lord Carstairs. Lord Palgrave was quite satisfied about that.’

  ‘A wife? Lord Palgrave satisfied?’ A horrible sinking feeling took possession of Thea’s stomach. There could be no mistaking Giles’s intent: this was a proposal of marriage. How on earth had she not realised Giles had become so attached to her? And how, without wounding him, was she going to get out of this?

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Why, yes, a wife. Let me start again. I am making a dreadful mull of this,’ Giles said with a rueful smile. ‘Lady Althea, you cannot be unaware of the esteem in which I hold you. Both you and Lord Palgrave have shown me the greatest trust in admitting me into your confidence, and I am aware of your difficult circumstances.’

  ‘My—?’

  ‘You having left home without your father’s consent, I mean.’ He cleared his throat and embarked on what, through her state of befuddlement, she supposed was a prepared speech. ‘My birth, although not the equal of yours, is respectable. I believe my prospects are good, and you already know my sisters.’ He went down on one knee and took her unresisting hand. ‘Lady Althea, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? I will ensure that not the slightest scandal attaches to your name as a result of this journey and—’