Unlacing Lady Thea

by Louise Allen

  ‘You will be careful, won’t you, Polly?’ And who am I to lecture? ‘I’m sure if anything should... Well, you know what I mean. I am certain his lordship would insist on Hodge marrying you, but it isn’t the way you’d want to start married life, is it?’

  ‘Don’t you worry, my lady,’ Polly said. ‘I don’t believe in letting a man take liberties. A girl loses all her mystery if she does that, my sister Bethan says. You give them what they wants and then they don’t want it anymore, she says. And she landed herself an attorney’s clerk! A little kiss is all John Hodge is getting until I’ve got a ring on my finger.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Thea said as her stomach took an unpleasant swoop downwards. Is that what would happen now? Perhaps she had only been a novelty for Rhys, and the attraction he had felt for her would evaporate now there was no mystery about the woman she had grown up to be. Perhaps, in the cold light of day, he would think less of her, believe her wanton. No, surely Rhys would not be that hypocritical.

  ‘Is your sister’s a happy marriage?’ she asked, and stirred another spoonful of sugar into her chocolate for courage.

  Polly shrugged. ‘There’s money enough and he’s kind to her and the kiddies are healthy. I’d not be surprised if he doesn’t stray now and again, if you take my meaning.’

  ‘So it wasn’t a love match?’

  ‘No. Our Bethan’s got her head on the right way round. She set out to catch the best man she could, provided she liked him well enough.’

  Love matches would be different, Thea told herself. If a man loved a woman he would not think worse of her the next day if she slept with him. But Rhys does not love me, not that way. All the warm, happy, sensual glow that had been with her since Rhys’s departure ebbed away, leaving her apprehensive and shaken.

  What did I think, deep down, was going to happen? she asked herself. That Rhys was going to wake after a night in my arms and realise he loved me passionately? She hoped that was not the case. At least expressing desire frankly was the sort of thing an independent adult woman might do, but to daydream about fairy-tale endings was uncomfortably like her youthful yearnings.

  ‘Shall I lay out your green walking dress, my lady?’ She had been so deep in her troubled thoughts that Polly had already found her clean linen and was standing waiting to help her with her stays.

  ‘Yes, please.’ Another day in the chaise with either Giles and his uncomfortably perceptive gaze for company, or the agony of being with Rhys, on public display and unable to touch him, let alone ask how he felt about her now. ‘No, put that back, Polly. I have an idea.’

  * * *

  ‘Are you riding today, Denham?’ Benton pushed back his chair from the breakfast table and stood up.

  ‘Hmm?’ Rhys yanked his thoughts back from their review of last night’s delights. ‘Riding? Yes, I thought I would.’ Thea might need a while to feel comfortable alone with him, and he could well do without the strain of sitting next to her in the chaise, unable to do any of the things that he would find himself aching for.

  ‘In that case, I think I’ll see if the landlord can hire me a horse.’ Benton went out and Rhys drained his coffee while he tried to make up his mind how to approach Thea. She might well be regretting what had happened last night, in which case he had to make her feel confident that he would not press her for any further intimacy and that no one would ever know what had transpired between them.

  On the other hand, she might want to continue their liaison, but would probably be far too shy to say so—especially after she had assured him that she expected nothing more from him than one night.

  And what did he want? Well, that was easy—what he wanted was to continue as her lover. Her untutored, sensual, generous response to lovemaking had delighted and shaken him. To explore with her all the other delights that bed sport held would be intensely pleasurable.

  But. But he had been careful last night. Every time they made love, however carefully, there was some risk of pregnancy and of discovery. And how could he be certain she would tell him the truth about what she wanted? If he made it clear he wished to continue as her lover, she might very well feel obligated to agree, and, being Thea, would put a very good face on it. Would he be able to tell if her agreement was genuine?

  Rhys stared into the muddy dregs at the bottom of his cup. They seemed to have a lot in common with his thought processes. This was why he wanted a placid, emotionless marriage. No anxiety about hurting another person, no fear of them hurting you.

  What he ought to do now was clear—never mind what he wanted. He should not make love to Thea again. In fact, he should pretend it had not happened. Then she would not feel pressured. And if the worst did happen, then surely he could rely on her to tell him that she was with child?

  That thoroughly straightforward conclusion was curiously unsatisfying. Do your duty, Rhys told himself. Even that thought did not produce the immediate sense of purpose and contentment it normally did. For a ridiculous, self-indulgent moment he imagined life with Thea, then gave himself a brisk shake. This was the sort of emotional muddle he was intending to avoid. He pushed back the chair and went to pay the reckoning, the warm afterglow of sexual satisfaction ebbing with unpleasant finality.

  * * *

  The stable yard seemed full of horses. The post boys were supervising the four being hitched to the chaise, Tom Felling was arguing about the shoes on one of the animals the ostlers were trying to harness to the carriage and Benton was mounted, holding the reins of two other horses.

  ‘They tell me the lady has ordered this one.’ He gestured towards a neat grey bearing a side saddle. ‘And then they ran off before I could tell them they had made a mistake.’

  ‘No mistake.’ Thea walked past Rhys to take the reins. ‘Will you give me a boost?’ Her smile was just the same as it always was, her gaze meeting his with perfect frankness.

  Last night might not have happened, Rhys thought with a flash of what he recognised as hurt pride. Damn it! Then he saw the shadows under her eyes and the way her smile wavered as he stared at her, and he made himself smile.

  ‘Yes, of course. That is a charming habit.’ He cupped his hands for her booted foot and tossed her up. The mare sidled, but Thea had the reins competently in hand.

  ‘It is French,’ she said with a rueful twist of the lips. ‘Their gowns are fabulous and their fashions always ahead of ours, but their tailoring is not as good as London tailoring. This is meant for parading in a park, not for the hunting field, I fear.’ She gave the exaggeratedly long skirt a dismissive twitch. Yes, now that he was looking for it he could see the constraint behind the facade.

  ‘Even so, the effect for the spectator is most pleasing.’ Rhys mounted, one eye on the grey. He would have much preferred to try the animal out himself before he let Thea near it. And was this wise, in any case? After all, she had been as near a virgin as made no difference, and perhaps she’d be more comfortable in the chaise.

  ‘Are you sure you should be riding this morning?’ he said, low voiced, as he brought his own bay alongside her. ‘Should you perhaps be resting?’

  Thea gave a snort of laughter. ‘What a poor honey you must think me if you do not believe I can manage a strange horse, Rhys. You taught me to ride, remember?’

  ‘Astride, when you were six,’ he protested.

  She lowered her voice, ‘Or perhaps your male pride is dented because I am not prostrate with, er...emotion?’

  ‘Thea!’ Well, that answered that! Whatever she was feeling this morning, it was not shyness or an excess of sensibility. Even so, she was somehow not quite herself.

  ‘I am tired of being shut in the chaise.’ Her voice rose and Rhys saw she controlled it with a conscious effort. ‘The weather is beautiful, the scenery is so new and different and the air smells delightful. I want to enjoy it.’ She nudged the grey into a walk and the three of them rode out of the yard side by side.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked. ‘I never thought to ask last night.’ From h
er calm expression and downcast lashes no one would have guessed that the reason had probably been nothing to do with tiredness and everything to do with nervously anticipating an amorous encounter.

  ‘Just north of Montélimar.’ Rhys relaxed, the grey was well behaved and Thea was obviously more than competent in the saddle, even if her attention was not fully on the horse. ‘I was aiming for Orange tonight and that is only thirty-five, forty miles. Do you want to see anything in Montélimar?’ he asked Benton, who shook his head. ‘Then we will buy some of the famous nougat for Thea on our way through.’

  ‘It isn’t me who has the sweet tooth,’ she retorted. ‘It was always you who stole the fudge if Cook did not hide it well enough.’

  ‘I am prepared to admit I would like to try nougat,’ Benton interjected. ‘Shall we canter?’

  Thea urged the grey on and left them in a cloud of dust. Rhys let Benton chase after her and held his horse back to a more controlled pace. What had he expected this morning? That Thea would send him some unmistakable signal that she wanted to continue as his lover? Or an equally clear signal that she did not? He had not thought how tricky this would be, or how difficult it must be for her to make either inclination clear.

  He must take the bull by the horns and broach the subject, making certain he gave no indication of his own wish. To put her under any sort of pressure ran counter to every instinct he possessed as a gentleman. And his instincts were usually to be trusted, he thought, recalling how reluctant he had been to bring her with him on this journey. If he had not, if he had been sober enough to find a sensible solution to her problems, then in a year or two they would doubtless have met again, both of them married to highly suitable spouses. And then his blood would not be running hot with desire for a woman who was better fit for marriage to some scholar or explorer or eccentric reformer. And then I might get some sleep at night, Rhys thought and urged his mount into a gallop.

  * * *

  ‘I am blissfully sticky and far too full,’ Thea remarked, and sucked her fingers in a manner she knew full well was unacceptable in any lady over the age of six. Across the table in the private parlour Rhys gave a slight shudder. It must have been too hoydenish even for his tolerance. Giles, armed with a thick guidebook, had gone out to scout around the sites.

  The atmosphere was strained, or perhaps it was simply her own shyness. What did one say the day after the first time one lay with a man? Or did one say nothing until you were in bed again? If that ever happened. She watched Rhys out of the corner of her eye as he sat checking the route map spread out before him and the notebook he had weighted open under the pewter sugar basin. His mouth was closed in an uncompromising line and he had not looked her straight in the eye since they had arrived, dusty and a trifle saddle sore, at the best inn in the centre of Orange.

  Thea sat up straight and gave her fingers one last wipe with her handkerchief. She was a grown-up woman who had taken a lover; it was simply a matter of having a frank, adult conversation about who was sleeping where tonight. ‘Um...’ Oh, for goodness’ sake! That was hardly a sophisticated opening.

  Rhys glanced up, then must have seen something in her face that made him put down his pencil and give her his undivided attention. ‘Yes?’

  And that was hardly an encouraging response. ‘Last night—’

  ‘Thea, you do not need to be in any way concerned that I will take last night as a carte blanche to impose on you again.’

  ‘You did not impose,’ she protested. ‘I asked you.’

  ‘I know, but I mean, in future.’ He looked about as eager as a man discussing an invitation to a three-hour poetry reading. ‘You were curious and we had behaved in a manner calculated to inflame anyone’s passions. I hope that at least it has removed any dread of the act that Meldreth’s actions gave you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Thea agreed, finding the syllables stuttering on her tongue. ‘Certainly it has.’ The subtext to his words was clear enough to read. He was her friend so he had not wanted to snub her when she asked, he was concerned that she had been left with a horror of intercourse after Anthony’s clumsy wooing and he had been sufficiently aroused by the situation to find it no actual hardship. If Rhys had wanted to make love with her again he would have kissed her the moment they were alone, would have told her—even if it had been a lie—that she had been wonderful last night, would have acted, in other words, like a lover.

  ‘Thank you,’ Thea said and rose to her feet. ‘I am truly grateful for the care you took of me. No, please don’t get up. I must go and ring for a bath or I will ache all over tomorrow!’ That was really a very convincing little laugh, she congratulated herself as she left the room. It was strange how tired she felt, but that was due to spending the day in the saddle, no doubt. And she felt queasy. But that was an incautious indulgence in nougat.

  Bother the dust, it seemed to have got everywhere, even into her eyes. Thea stopped outside her own bedchamber door and groped for a handkerchief to catch the solitary tear as it began to trickle down her face.

  Stop it, she told herself. You had one night of complete bliss, you slept in his arms, you will remember it always. Now have some pride or he will guess you are within a hair’s breadth of going on your knees and begging him to make love to you again.

  Thea scrubbed at her face, forced a cheerful expression onto her face and pushed open the door. ‘I absolutely must have a bath, Polly, or I will be as stiff as a board in the morning.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  At least Giles had not noticed anything amiss, Thea thought as she shaded her eyes against the bright morning sunlight and listened to him expounding on the history of the Arc de Triomphe. Rhys appeared to be genuinely engrossed. And why should he not be? she chided herself. He is an intelligent and cultured man, and to view sites such as this is one of the reasons a gentleman embarks on the Grand Tour.

  ‘It was built to commemorate the conquest of the Gauls by Julius Caesar,’ Giles explained. ‘The detail shows his superiority in both land and sea warfare, as you can see from the anchors and ropes here and the prisoners on the other side of the arch.’

  Thea told herself to stop moping and take an interest. ‘Through here?’ She walked into the shade of the massive central arch.

  ‘They are in a state of nature,’ Giles called after her. ‘You may not wish—’

  Having seen Rhys in such a state she was hardly likely to be outraged. ‘I am certain the cultural and historical significance outweighs any scruples of that kind,’ Thea said, and wondered if she had caught the fleeting glimpse of a smile on Rhys’s lips.

  She studied the battered carvings with a purely intellectual interest, she assured herself, although it was hard not to reflect how much more beautiful Rhys’s body was than anything the sculptor had depicted.

  When she strolled back to the other side both he and Giles had pocket sketchbooks in their hands. ‘May I see?’ Rhys sketching? ‘But these are very good! I had no idea you could draw.’

  ‘I took it up at Oxford. There was a group of us who were interested. It made a focus for walking holidays. I am competent, that is all. Benton has a much surer touch.’

  Giles handed her his book readily. He had obviously studied more than Rhys and the standard was more than amateur, but somehow it seemed academic and lacking in the life that Rhys’s rapid sketches held.

  ‘You have a real talent,’ she praised.

  ‘Thank you.’ Giles smiled diffidently. ‘You should join us. We could acquire some watercolours and we could all work together.’

  ‘Me?’ Thea laughed. ‘I cannot draw, let alone paint in watercolour.’

  ‘You are too modest! I thought all young ladies learned as a matter of course.’

  ‘Thea turned her drawing master grey,’ Rhys remarked. ‘Our godmother always engaged one for the summer when we stayed with her. He would have a gaggle of intense young ladies around him like a duck with ducklings—and Thea would be out in the middle of the lake in the rowing boat or
up a tree or persuading the grooms to let her try out every horse in the stables.’

  ‘You sound disapproving. You always encouraged me at the time.’

  ‘I was no more sensible than you were,’ Rhys said with something of a snap. ‘Or should I say that boys have no concept of the attributes a young lady needs to acquire to fit herself for her future role in life.’

  That was clear enough, Thea thought as she handed his sketchbook back to Giles with a smile that seemed to be frozen on her lips. I was fun to play with when I was a tomboy—now I am a hoyden, unfit for a respectable marriage.

  ‘I have saved the best until last,’ Giles remarked as he slid the book into the pocket in his coat-tails. ‘We have seen the cathedral and the arch, now it is time for the Roman theatre. We must walk back through the old town, but it is not far.’

  He offered his arm to Thea, who listened with only half an ear to his explanation that the hill in front of them was the old castle of the princes of Orange. Behind her she was conscious of Rhys’s footsteps on the cobbled pathway and imagined his eyes on her back. Imagined his thoughts and, worse, his regrets.

  Even so, the sight of the theatre stopped her in her tracks and knocked any other thoughts from her head. Battered red sandstone towered up like a cliff face, pigeons wheeling across its facade from the niches and cracks that studded it.

  Giles was talking about the emperor Augustus and ten thousand spectators and something about acoustics, but she was still gawking at it and hardly listened as he led them inside.

  ‘If you climb the steps to the seats at the back, we can try the sound,’ he said with enthusiasm, urging Thea and Rhys forward across the semicircular area. ‘Be careful, the stone is very worn.’

  ‘We had better do what our tutor tells us,’ Rhys remarked, low voiced. ‘Give me your hand—these are very uneven.’

  In the heat, neither of them was wearing gloves. More hoydenish behaviour on my part, Thea thought bitterly as Rhys’s grip tightened and her heart began to pound. The steps between the tiers of stone seats were broken in many places, so they had to climb from seat to seat. After the first few, with Thea grabbing desperately at her skirts to stop them riding up with the height she had to lift her leg, Rhys simply dropped her hand and boosted her from one to the other.