She began to tremble as her climax hit the heights and overwhelmed her. Sybille let it claim her, only dimly aware as Thom thrust twice more, and shuddered.
Neither shouted; it seemed the need for caution had instilled itself in Thom as well as her. How long they remained in that position, Sybille didn’t know although she suspected it wasn’t long. Their situation was too precarious to linger as they were.
Thom flicked her dress back down, and helped her stand. “Wait there.”
He disappeared out of the stable whistling as he went.
There goes one satisfied male. She couldn’t complain, as she felt somewhat satisfied herself.
He returned with a bucket of water. “Is this any good? I have a handkerchief.” He passed the linen square to her.
“Thank you.” Sybille took it. Turn your back, or better still saddle Endeavor.”
Thom laughed but walked away. It gave Sybille a few seconds to wash herself and wring out the linen. By the time he came back, she was as composed as anyone could be after having been ravished over a saddle stand.
He winked. “Your turn.”
“Wh… oh right.” She turned her back on him hastily, and wondered if it would be in order to stuff her fingers in her ears. The rustlings and splashes were all too thought provoking.
“You can turn around now.” Thom touched her shoulder and she jumped like a scalded cat, so involved in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him approach. “Are you all right?”
“Just jittery. I wish I was going with you. What will happen?” She smoothed her hair and gave up trying to get it back into the few pins that remained. Heaven knew what had happened to the rest.
Thom shouldered the saddle and began to tack up Endeavor. “I’ll go to see him and tell him how unwise it will be to carry on.”
“Just like that?” Sybille took a stalk of hay out of his hair. “And he will agree?”
“Oh yes,” Thom said grimly. “I’ll see to that. I might be a few days. Enjoy your stay and dream of me.” He swung up onto Endeavor’s back and gathered the reins. “Take care.”
“My parents and siblings?” Sybille asked urgently. “Are they at any risk?”
“No, I was overreacting, to show Esme how seriously I am taking this. They will be safe. I’ll wager Bankfoot will crumple when challenged. He has no backbone.” He blew her a kiss. But still, I’ll ask you to take care.”
“And you.” Sybille sketched a wave, and watched as he cantered out of the yard and up the drive.
She waited where she was, until the sound of hoofbeats had died away, before she turned and walked back into the house in a thoughtful mood. Was it really as simple as Thom made out?
That nasty itch between her shoulder blades was back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Once the tussle over who was boss had been decided—Thom surfacing as the winner, though how long for he wouldn’t like to hazard a guess—Endeavor carried Thom smoothly and swiftly toward the capital. At this time of the day, the shadows were long, and the traffic light. After the third time Endeavor shied at the imaginary monsters that waved at him, Thom let the horse stretch himself and wear himself out. Therefore, by the time they reached the suburbs, and the traffic increased, Endeavor was exhausted enough to obey Thom without any resistance. They weaved their way through carts and street vendors without any mishap, until they reached the relative quiet of the mews behind his house.
However, Thom was thankful to be able to hand Endeavor over to his groom. The journey hadn’t been the easiest. On a strange horse, and with the necessity to make haste, he’d needed all his wits about him. Even so, as he entered his house, his plan was formulated. As his valet helped him out of his jacket, and reminded him his bathwater was waiting, Thom had his evening plotted out.
He called his housekeeper and major domo to his study, and arranged several things he knew would be needed within a few hours. If they weren’t, he didn’t know his godmother as well as he thought he did. Satisfied there was no more he could feasibly do at that moment, he called his carriage and left for his first appointment.
By the time he walked up to Theo and Mijo at the first of his planned events of the evening—an informal get together at Lady Morrison’s—he was confident his plot and machinations would work.
Theo saw him first, and raised one eyebrow. “Your note was somewhat cryptic. Nevertheless, we are here. What do you want me, or indeed us, to do?”
“Other than plan a wedding? Nothing now, but later? Ah later, I hope your worries regarding the pearls will be over. So, at our last event for the evening, make Mijo wear her pearls when I signal you, and not until. The real ones I sent round to you—Mijo do not squeal, it all hinges on tonight, at La Grey’s. I can only play it out as it happens, it is impossible to plan to any degree However, Bankfoot will hopefully take my bait, and the pearls will be the final nail in his coffin.”
“I will do as you command, Thomas,” Mijo said. “Theo, I heard you quite distinctly say it will be the first time I have ever obeyed a command. I always do as you ask.”
Theo laughed. “Ask, my dear, is the operative word. Ask, not command.”
“It is Thomas who commands, therefore I will acquiesce.” She smiled at both of them in turn. “This time.”
Thom bowed. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure. How on earth did you manage to get Sybille to stay away?”
“I’m not sure I did,” Thom said. “We will see.”
****
“I feel sick,” Tina said faintly. She fanned herself with her hand. “What are we doing?”
“Saving your best friend’s neck, I reckon.” Esme stuck her head out of the window. “Sybille, child, where in Hades are we?”
Sybille looked over Esme’s shoulder. “Er, just crossing the heath. Not too long now. Will we be in time?”
“Heavens child, of course. How long did we give him to get ahead?”
Sybille laughed. “Ten minutes?”
“Fifteen. And being up on Endeavor, he had several miles an hour on us. He’ll be out of the way before we arrive.”
“Where are we going?” Tina asked. She’d been very quiet, and now looked as if she was ready to be sick.
“Thom’s,” Esme said and ignored Tina’s yelp. “Sybille, do you have clothes at Thom’s house, suitable for our evening festivities?”
Sybille shook her head. “Of course not, why would I?”
“Why indeed?” Esme shook her head. “I do worry about the adventure of your souls.”
“Pardon?”
“You have none,” Esme said. “Tina, buck up, we’re nearly at Clemente’s.”
“Clemente’s?” Sybille blinked. Clemente was one of the prized modistes of the ton. Only a very select few were chosen to be gowned by her. It was said, that to receive a pale pink card, engraved with the name 'Clemente’, and the words ‘you are invited to be gowned by’… was one of the most coveted requests a lady could receive. “How on earth?”
Esme tapped her nose. “Another godchild. Of course she’s reinvented herself over the years, but I sent Young Clements—one of the grooms and her younger brother—ahead to warn her. She’ll be waiting for us.”
Sybille began to laugh helplessly. Her life had been turned on its head over the last few days and she was enjoying every minute of it. But Clemente’s?
“Will she want us all? Even me?”
“I suspect you’re of more interest to her than Tina or I. She sends us a regular supply of gowns, which we dutifully wear to church and the local socials. She has our sizes and there will be something suitable waiting. But we are small fry.”
Tina smiled. She looked slightly more cheerful. “Thank the lord. If I could stay at home, I’d be happy. Oh don’t look like that Esme, I’ll back you. If we have to be oddities, we might as well be oddities together. Two for one to flummox the ton.”
“Don’t do it for me,” Sybille said, somewhat alarmed at what the two older ladies were going to p
ut themselves through on her family’s behalf. The three of them had plotted on the drive to London. How Esme knew just exactly what Thom had in mind, Sybille had no idea. The only thing they didn’t know was where he would be, but as Esme said firmly, if his valet didn’t know Thom’s plans, he would deserve to be fired. She intended to send a message to him, as soon as they reached Clemente’s. There would be no time to detour to Thom’s house. Mutton and the coach had gone to warn the household about their guests, and been ordered that while he was there he had to have a bit to eat, and change, before he returned for them.
“We’re not, we’re doing it for both of you. And yes, for ourselves. To prove we can.”
Sybille leaned forward and hugged both Esme and Tina. “I love you both, and I will be cheering you on.”
“Good, and you will be the belle of the ball. Maggie—Clemente I mean—will be itching to dress you. Can you direct Mutton to Bruton Street?”
Sybille scanned the roads. “Left and a mile further, then turn right.”
“Good show.” Esme shoved the top half of her body out of the window and shouted up at Mutton, her coachman. She sat back down with a satisfied sigh. “So all set eh?”
“As I’ll ever be, Tina said gloomily. “At least I’m forewarned that our families are likely to meet us. They have no clue. That knowledge pleases me. In fact it makes most of this almost palatable.”
Esme patted her arm. “Their loss, love.”
“And now their loss is my gain,” Sybille said. “I’ve found you, and discovered Aunt Tina again.”
“There is that,” Tina said with a smile.
“So that’s two positives.” Sybille raised her eyebrows. “Surely we are on an upward stroke?”
“We can but hope so,” Esme said soberly. “If nothing else we’ll all replenish our wardrobes.”
The next hour was a revelation to Sybille. Oh she’d been measured for gowns, and at fashionable modistes, but Clemente’s was a revelation. While she was pricked, prodded and pinned into gowns and pelisses, Esme and Tina fed her nibbles and tidbits, and handed her a glass of wine.
“Don’t spill it,” Esme said as she twisted one way and another and admired the dark green silk she wore. “Maggie, you’ve done us proud.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be here if not for you. And you’ve brought me Lady Sybille to dress. What more could I ask? Aunt Tina, leave that neckline be. It is as it should be. You have fine titties, why not flaunt them? And that neckline covers all necessities.”
Sybille bit her lip to stop herself gasping as Tina moved her hands from the gown as if it had scalded her.
“Bully,” Tina grumbled as she paced the room. She stopped in front of a mirror and gasped. “Young Maggie, this is beautiful. Maybe everyone will be so taken up with why you should make a dress for me, of all people, they’ll forget to ask what on earth we are doing gatecrashing.”
“No one will dare ask that,” Esme said. “To get the black sheep of two prominent families at their functions will be such a cache.” She snorted. “Little will they know.”
“Aunt Esme, your dress is finished. Millicent will help you into it.” Maggie put a last stitch into the hem of the ruby and silver gown Sybille wore and knelt back onto her haunches. “My Lady, you are a joy to dress. I do hope you’ll let me continue to be your modiste.”
“I er…” What on earth could she say? ‘If we have any money?’
“Of course she will,” Esme said in a firmly. “And a word in your ear. Wedding clothes.”
“Esme,” Sybille said in an agonized voice. ‘I ca—”
“It’s Tina and my wedding present to her,” Esme said. “She’s special to us as well as Thom. Not widely known, mind, but get your thinking cap on. And no flat white. A nice subtle rose maybe?”
Clemente nodded. “I have the very thing. Finish your wine and let me show you. Mutton will be ready when you are.” She bustled off.
“Well,” Tina sniggered. “She gets ever bossier.”
“She is allowed to be,” Esme said. “Be prepared for a lot more. I think it’s time to open up the house. Oh not all the time, but it would be good to go to the theatre, and the opera eh?”
Tina nodded. “As ever you’re right.” She sounded as if they were planning her funeral, not festivities.
“Here, what do you think?” Maggie—Clemente—re-entered the room holding a bolt of shot silk in the palest rose, and one of a deeper colored lace.
Sybille gawped as Clemente rolled several yards of material out over the back of a chaise, and the silk rippled like a dawn kissed waterfall. “Oh my, it’s beautiful.”
“Come back as soon as you can and I’ll show you my ideas for it.”
There was a soft knock on the door. “That will be the warning that Mutton is here for you. Aunt Esme, I’ll arrange for everything to go to Lord Jeavons’s house. You’ll be clothed for bed and tomorrow. The rest will be delivered before the afternoon is over.”
“Perfect. Right ladies, gird up your loins and let’s go.” Esme led them out like a general leading their troops into battle. Which in a way, Sybille surmised was what was about to happen.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thom scanned the occupants, as he, Theo and Mijo made their way across Jacqueline Grey’s over crowded ballroom. It was the usual ton crush, and as ever La Grey had too many bodies, too many candles, not enough pomanders, and too few windows open. On such a warm evening it was like an oven. With overripe meat cooking.
Mijo put her hand over her nose. “This reeks, can we move through and out into the garden?”
“Why not? Head left, I see the man I seek near the end French window. Go outside of the one before him.” They altered course and eventually reached their destination, and breathed in the fresh night air.
“Whew, that is so much better.” Mijo fanned herself. “Why do we put ourselves through it?”
“It’s the season. We are sheep,” Thom said. “Ah, and as I thought, here comes the cavalry, or should that be the rest of the herd?”
“I heard that, Thomas Ormston.” Esme bussed his cheek once he had bowed over her hand and then straightened up. “What took you so long?”
“Mijo,” Thom said promptly. That lady embraced her daughter, then punched his arm.
“Thomas.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”
“Here we do not,” Thom said. “Esme how did you all get here?”
“By coach. But if you mean into here, we sneaked in via the garden gate. I didn’t think you’d want our presence announced yet.”
“I didn’t think I wanted your presence, at all,” Thom said. “It seems I was wrong.”
“Very wrong,” Esme said firmly. “So what’s the plan?”
“It will be one of two things, and which will depend, in the main, on Bankfoot. I don’t want to humiliate him unless it’s necessary, but believe me if I have to, I will. The original plan will now be amended slightly. Listen well.” He shepherded his team toward the end of the terrace where most of the assembled crowd wouldn’t bother to walk to. Here the sconces were fewer, the shadows longer, and the pavers uneven.
Thom stopped just before the low wall that separated them from the rose garden, and rapidly explained what was needed.
“Perfect,” Mijo exclaimed when he had finished.
“Are you all happy with your part?” Thom asked. “If not now is the time to say so.”
“Of course.”
“Yes.”
“Definitely.”
“You have it covered.”
Thom nodded. “Good. Give me five minutes.” He spun Sybille into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Be assured all will be well. Think where you would like to go for a honeymoon.” He walked away before she could answer.
Bankfoot was leaning again the wall in the larger of the rooms set aside for gaming. “Whist, I think Cornelius.” Thom spoke directly into Bankfoot’s ear. The man jumped most satisfactorily. Thom smote him on the sh
oulder. “In the smaller salon.” He left his arm across Bankfoot’s shoulder in a parody of friendliness, and steered him away from the wall and toward the smaller salon.
“What if I don’t want to play with you?” Bankfoot said, fiercely. “You have the gall to come here like this and expect me to game with you and…”
“Oh not just expect,” Thom said genially. “Demand. Let’s say, in one way, your life depends on it.” He steered them to an empty table near the far wall and sat Bankfoot with his back to the bank of windows. It was perfect for what he intended.
“Sit and cut the pack.” He flipped a new deck of cards toward Bankfoot who caught it in a well-practiced, automatic gesture, and slit the seal.
“Be prepared, Ormston. I do not lose.” Bankfoot shuffled the cards expertly.
“You missed the Ace,” Thom pointed out. “Of Spades. I believe it accidentally slid onto your lap.”
Bankfoot scowled. “Thank you, it did.”
“That’s the last warning,” Thom said, menace in every word. “Now what shall we wager? Oh I know. Reputations. Deal.”
“Reputations? Whose?” Bankfoot dealt the cards and sorted his hand. “Hearts are trumps.”
“Of course, hearts. That is fitting. And as for reputations? Yours and a friend of mine.” He dropped a card onto the baize. “Jack. When you lose, if you do not promise to hold your mouth about any misconceived ideas you have regarding the Birches’ pearls, I will mention three words.”
“Oh, and that should worry me? I never lose.” Bankfoot threw a card on the table. “My trick. As I said losing is not in my repertoire.”
“Not when you cheat, no. By the way, now all the aces are in the pack, remember, it is aces high. But you’re not going to cheat tonight. Replace the extra card you just picked up. Thank you.” Thom sorted his cards. They would do nicely. “Now, where was I? Ah yes, three words. Do you want to know what they are?”
“It seems you have a need to tell me.”
“True.” Thom made a show of considering his hand of cards and nodded. “I think it’s best you know. Your father’s heir. There, those are my three words.”
Sybille's Lord Page 14
