“I thought we’d head to the park and chat on the way.” He helped her to climb up into the vehicle. “Hence no tiger.”
She knew Thom usually had Brisco with him when he drove. “The park is public enough for it to cause no scandal.”
“And your parents will be near the pavilion.”
Sybille smiled and settled her skirts as he swung up next to her and set the vehicle in motion. “Maman loves the park. Plenty to see, lots to do, and not too far from home.”
“Gossip and scandals dissected?” Thom maneuvered the curricle around a pie seller and three urchins playing Five Stones in the gutter. “That child will win.” He nodded to one tousle-haired moppet. “She has a steady hand.”
Sybille looked down and grinned. The fresh air had dissipated her headache and she felt human once more. “Alleygobs?” She used her family‘s name for the game. “I haven’t played that for years. Dare was best at five and two, I could only manage four stones one jack.”
“Smaller hands.”
Sybille stretched her glove-encased hand out and splayed her fingers. “True.”
“Smaller capacity.”
Was that a hint of amusement in his tone? Sybille looked up at him suspiciously, but his face showed no such emotion as he tooled the equipage through the park gates and turned along a carriageway. “As in?”
“As in everything, my dear. Keep your eyes open for incoming tabbies and annoying debs and encroaching mamas who think any man is fair game.”
Sybille understood exactly what he meant. Tabbies, those older ladies who wanted to know every last tidbit of gossip, were well known for having the ability to ferret out all the tittle-tattle and any scandals brewing almost without the deliverer realizing it. The debs and their mamas were the bane of any eligible gentleman’s life. “Shall I protect you?”
He chuckled. “Why else are you with me? No, don’t get on your high horse, you know I don’t mean it. I thought we could talk and be seen. If nothing else it will make Bankfoot realize you are not alone, and have someone to stand up for you.”
“Won’t that make it worse? Oh Lord, Lady Castlemaine and Lady Belford to our left.”
“Dip your head, acknowledge them, they’ll understand if we don’t stop. Lady Jersey is over to the right. She takes precedence. And about Bankfoot? I need him to show his hand. Now smile, Lady Jersey is no fool.”
She might not be a fool, but luckily she also liked them both. Even though her nickname of ‘Silence’ had been bestowed on her for her inability to stay so, she was kindly at heart. Sybille never minded talking to her.
It was the same now. After a few minutes of inconsequential chatter, Sally Jersey looked at them shrewdly. “You work together,” she said. “It’s not often I’d say that. Take heed and ignore the others. Do what’s right for you.” She turned away from them to greet the occupants of another carriage, which had drawn up nearby.
“Was that Lady Jersey giving us her blessing?” Sybille asked as they drove away.
“So it seems. Will you give us it as well?”
Sybille jumped as her heart missed a beat. “I beg your pardon? What do you mean?”
“Oh, my dear Sybille. Don’t prevaricate. You know what I mean. Can I tell your maman you’ve agreed to be my wife?”
If only she could say yes. “No. I don’t know you well enough. And well, there’s the pearls and Bankfoot to consider.” She heard the regret in her voice and guessed Thom did as well because he shot her a shrewd glance.
“I’ll sort Bankfoot, and no, don’t say he’s your problem. He’s now mine. You involved me last night.”
I did? What else did I do?
“And as for getting to know me? You can still say that? After last night?” Thom shook his head. “How galling.”
It was no good. She was going to have to admit her lack of memory.
Chapter Nine
It was cruel to tease her so, but oh how he loved to see the expression of wary confusion on her face. When he’d finally extracted himself from her grasp, it had been at the expense of his jacket and the now empty brandy bottle. Thom had managed to tug the blankets from under her and cover her up, and then he’d sat next to her for several long minutes, loath to leave in case she became ill. Not that less than a glass of brandy should affect her too much, but it seemed to him that perhaps Sybille didn’t have a head for alcohol.
She mumbled under her breath and he leaned in to hear her say something about ‘wish he was’ and then ‘love’.
“What do you wish? What about love?” He couldn’t help but ask. Her reply was a sigh.
That was all she said. Thom settled next to her until the household began to stir. He had no option then but to creep away, and once home send the message that he would call for her and take her for a drive.
Now as he watched the color come back into her face, he chuckled. “Sybille what do you remember?”
“Time to ‘fess up. Very little I’m afraid. I told you about the pearls and Bankfoot, and I ah, tried brandy.”
“You also caused me to walk home coatless. The watch gave me a very strange look. Luckily it was dawn, and I suspect all he wanted was to clock off and go to bed. Like me, alone.” Thom slowed his horses. “This park is too busy to talk and there is no way I can visit you again like last night.”
“Why not? There’s no more brandy.”
“It’s not the brandy I’m worried about. It’s the way we react to each other. Dammit, Sybille.” He decided to throw caution to the wind. Maybe he could shock her into admitting what else she wanted. “You say you don’t know me, but apart from me deflowering you, what else do you need?”
Her eyes widened and her color ebbed and flowed. She swallowed several times and cleared her throat. “Everything. I want that.” Her voice was so low he hardly heard her words.
“Pardon, you want me to…?”
She nodded. “Well maybe not everything but what if I repulse you? After all if you didn’t…?”
“I didn’t. But not because I had no interest. Seducing brandy-fueled women is not to my taste. When, note I say when, not if, I take you, I want you aware and participating. Now think about that while we converse with your parents.” Thom drew the curricle to a halt next to Theo’s and studiously ignored the dumbfounded look on Sybille's face.
Mijo of course had no such qualms.
“Sybille what ails you? I told you not to touch the fish.” She leaned over and felt her daughter’s forehead. “You’re not feverish. Are you liverish? Do you need a powder?”
“No, Maman, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.”
“Ah.” Mijo nodded. “I understand.”
Thom hoped to hell she didn’t. He sat impassively while Mijo gave him a searching glance.
“Tonight we will dine en famille. Thomas, you will attend.” It wasn’t a question.
Mijo turned to Theo who so far hadn’t said a word. He raised one eyebrow. “Ma belle?”
“We must go and warn the chef. Drive on.”
Theo laughed. “As ever, your wish is my command.”
Mijo snorted. “Pah. Thomas put color into my daughter’s cheeks. We will see you at eight.”
They drove off. Thom looked at Sybille. “Now, how shall I put color into your cheeks, eh?”
She put her hands to her cheeks. “I must apologize for my maman. She is oh so French, and thinks it’s a parent’s job to meddle.”
“She is my champion. And talking of champions, there’s Bankfoot approaching. Let me do the talking.”
“It will be my pleasure, I assure you,” Sybille said. “If I never have to address him again it will be too soon. Repulsive man.”
Bankfoot reached them and ignored Thom. He held his hand toward Sybille. It was, Thom thought, remarkably ugly, and claw-like. Almost as if it were a talon about to shred prey.
“My dear Lady Sybille.” Bankfoot was unctuous.
Thom understood that it was no wonder Sybille sought his, Thom’s, protection.
“Let me accompany you for a stroll.” Bankfoot ignored Thom. That in itself could be social suicide if it were made known. Almost Thom was tempted.
Sybille gasped and shrank toward Thom. However her voice was calm and clear and Thom was sure Bankfoot wouldn’t notice the faint tremor that rippled through Sybille. If she hadn’t been pressed to his side, he wouldn’t.
“I think not, my lord. I do not prescribe to the idea that it is acceptable to leave one companion to accompany another. I’m very happy where I am.”
“Really? I wonder at that, under the circumstances.” The menace was noticeable. “I trust you’ll be available to me tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t trust it if I were you, old boy.” Thom was deliberately obnoxious. “The lady will be busy. Now excuse us.” He cracked his whip. Although it wasn’t directed at Bankfoot, the man took several steps backward and clenched his hands into fists.
“You‘ll regret this, both of you.” He turned on his heel and marched off, his back ramrod straight and temper showing in every step.
“What have we done?” Sybille almost cried. “He will challenge us, I know it. We’re ruined.”
Thom put one hand over hers. Her skin was clammy. “Sybille, it has to be done, and you are not ruined, far from it. I have a plan. We’ll talk about it tonight. If we can speak alone with your parents.”
Sybille took a deep breath. “Forgive me for being such a pathetic watering pot. I hate being so weak-willed and wishy-washy.”
“It’s the brandy.”
“It is not the brandy,” she said and then grinned. “Not now. It's him. Bankfoot. He makes my skin crawl. Do you really have a plan? One that will work?”
“It’ll work. Whether you’ll like it, or agree, remains to be seen.”
“Why am I apprehensive?”
Thom shrugged. Sybille’s spine itched.
****
That niggly itch still attacked her spine several hours later as she waited in the drawing room for the rest of the family to join her. However, Sybille decided to be philosophical. They couldn’t actually force her to do something she’d hate, and she was certain they wouldn’t. Even though Mijo was a superb manipulator, she would never expect any of her children to do anything they truly felt was repugnant. She might nudge, suggest and do everything to show the benefits of what was offered, so in the end the recipient of her advice found themselves doing whatever it was they hadn’t expected to. However she accepted when her desire didn’t mesh with another person’s and would retire with good-ish grace.
The problem here, Sybille knew, was within herself.
Over the last few weeks, Sybille had taken a long hard look at herself and her attitude and she hadn’t entirely been happy with what she saw. She’d behaved like a pathetic child at times. Oh, she knew she couldn’t keep her worry about Bankfoot at bay, and had no option but to own up and accept help to get out of the predicament she’d found herself in, but she could also grow up and acknowledge what she wanted.
Thom.
But not yet, not until…
“My Lord Jeavons, My Lady.” Stubbs, the longest serving member of their household, broke into her reverie as he intoned the words. He spoiled his serious demeanor by winking. Not what you’d expect of an old and valued retainer who was a stickler for etiquette and punctiliousness. However it was hard for him to see Sybille or Marielle as adults. He was closer to the twins than any other member of the family. As a young footman, he’d given them pony rides on his back, taught them how to treat servants correctly, kept quiet when they crept out to go to a masked ball—although he’d accompanied them—and generally watched their backs. He was Sybille thought, their champion. Now married to Maybelle, her personal maid, she doubted there were many secrets he or Maybelle were not privy to, especially hers.
“Ah, perhaps you could let his lordship know that Maybelle arranged for a certain garment to be cleaned and returned to his household? So kind of him to lend it to you. Oh and the bottle was discarded.” Stubbs stood straight-faced, and rubbed the side of his nose.
Sybille sighed and smiled. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Stubbs stood to one side as Thom entered the room, took Sybille’s hand and bowed over it. With a knowing look toward Sybille, Stubbs then nodded briefly, bowed and retreated smartly.
Thom glanced at the closing door without releasing her hand. “Was it something I said, did, or does he have an aversion to my tailoring?”
Sybille giggled. Thom was now stroking her palm with one finger and the smooth sweep over her skin heated it rather nicely. It was difficult to formulate her thoughts let alone speak them. How could such a simple thing cause so much turmoil in her?
“Ah, that is Stubbs being subtle and giving us a few moments alone before the hordes enter. Plus letting you know his wife found your jacket.”
“I wondered how you got it back to me so easily. Did it cause problems?”
She shook her head. “I forgot I’d hidden it under the bedclothes with the empty bottle. Stubbs is married to Maybelle, my maid, who will have found it.” The jacket and bottle had totally gone out of her head. “They will have tutted, nodded sagely, and I hope given me the benefit of the doubt.” She paused and collected her thoughts. It was so hard to unscramble her mind while he was so close and touched her in such an intimate manner.
“My lord—Thom—I have to own up to thinking long and hard about our conversations and your request.”
He raised one eyebrow. How she wished she had that skill. It could be used as an invitation or a put down. This time she fervently hoped it was the former.
“That’s good to hear.” He tucked her arm in his.
As much as it brought their bodies closer, Sybille missed that arousing caress of her hand. He glanced down at her and smiled. “Later.”
Later what?
“Do you intend to share your ruminations or shall we play ‘Ask a Question’?”
“I think.” The door opened and her parents entered. Sybille inwardly groaned. She’d hoped to be able to let Thom know her feelings before she was asked openly.
“Ah, you’re here. Good, I’m famished,” Mijo said as Thom bowed over her hand and exchanged greetings with her and Theo. “We can eat.”
We can?
“Ma belle, you ate a plate of fancies not an hour since,” Theo said. “I managed but one before they vanished.”
“Theo, do not lie. I saw you sneak two when you thought I was otherwise occupied.”
He grinned. “Caught out. You are too sharp for me.”
“Of course, I…”
“Am French,” Theo and Sybille said together.
“Oui. Now let us eat.”
“The others?” Sybille said.
“Others?” Mijo sounded as if she had no more children. “Oh, the others. They are all busy elsewhere. It’s just us, so we can be cozy and talk without interference.”
That was something Sybille was concerned about. Mijo without someone to rein her in was worrying.
Chapter Ten
Thom was hard pressed not to laugh at the dismayed expression on Sybille’s face. He understood her consternation. Mijo in full spate was a force to be reckoned with. However, he decided, as he escorted Sybille into the dining room—“we won’t stand on ceremony,” Mijo had declared. “I will let my husband take me into dinner, and you can then give your attention to Sybille”—he would go with the flow of her intentions until such time as they didn’t suit him.
For the most part they talked of trivialities. Who was where and why. Who looked to be on the verge of offering for whom. How Lady Ackerson had surprised her husband with a flower girl, and now Lord Ackerson sported a black eye. Lady Caroline Lamb’s latest antics. Silly, trivial, gossipy things that were innocuous to speak of in front of the servants.
“My love, do you wish for you and Thomas to pass the port here? Or shall we all adjourn to my private sitting room, and be cozy there?” Mijo asked as the last dish w
as emptied. “I had the Tantalus filled in readiness.”
“How does Maman get to call you Thomas when I can’t?” Sybille said in a low voice. “I meant to ask before.”
“She scares me,” Thom replied promptly, as Theo decided with Thom‘s agreement they would all go to Mijo’s sitting room.
“And I don’t? Cofound it,” Sybille said as Thom held her chair out to enable her to rise. By the look on her face, she didn’t believe his protestation for one minute. “I must practice harder.”
“At what?” Mijo caught her last words.
“Being like you, Maman.”
Thom bit back a grin. Another Mijo would be one too many. “Your maman is one in her own right.”
“True enough, I’ll be Sybille who endorses Maman’s ideas.”
That wasn’t a lot better.
“No, you will be Sybille with her own ideas,” Mijo said as they entered her sitting room, and she waved them to seat. “Sybille, once you serve your papa and Thomas with what they prefer, you sit on that chaise with Thomas. I will sit next to my husband. And have wine.”
“Obvious, is she not?” Sybille muttered. “I’m sorry.”
Thom patted her bottom surreptitiously, as she turned to nod to her maman. “I’m not.” He loved her flounce and flustered look as she swished her skirts. The green and cream silk suited her admirably. The soft draped neckline enhanced the gentle swell of her breasts, and beckoned to him.
One day.
“You said something?” Sybille enquired as she handed him a glass of port, and took up what looked to him like watered wine.
“No brandy?”
“Coward,” Sybille muttered.
“Of course,” he replied out of the corner of his mouth. He noticed Mijo watching the exchange with interest, and perhaps a shade of alarm in her expression. He smiled to reassure her and saw her relax. Bless Mijo, she so wanted Sybille to desire him for all the right reasons.
“You would prefer brandy?” Theo asked. “We have some of course. Mijo would never forgive me if we were unable to offer her national spirit. I thought, however, immediately after a meal…”
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