She glanced up when her aunt made some strange noise and with a start, observed that her benefactress was staring into space, sucking on her teeth.
“Aunt?” she asked, though her concern brought Aunt Minerva’s head round like a spinning top with the usual rebuke spilling from her lips.
“Why look at you, lazy girl. You’re sitting in idleness when I’ve a whole basket that needs sorting. Who do you think pays a fortune to feed and clothe you?”
Sighing, Thea rose to her feet. “I’m suddenly very tired, Aunt Minerva. I think I shall have an afternoon rest.”
“You will not.” Her aunt glared at her. “Not until you’ve finished re-rolling the wool in that whole basket like I asked you this morning. Goodness me, girl. It is I who is off to rest.”
Chapter 10
BEFORE before either had a chance to carry the discussion further—although Aunt Minerva was always assured the last word—a commotion in the corridor just outside Aunt Minerva’s apartments was followed by the sound of girlish laughter and masculine jollity.
“Aunt Minerva, what a pleasure to see you!” Antoinette gushed as she swept across the Aubusson carpet of Aunt Minerva’s private sitting room to deliver a smacking kiss on her relative’s cheek.
Bertram followed suit, the pair of siblings taking a seat uninvited and gazing at Aunt Minerva with a degree of pleasure Thea considered most extraordinary. Antoinette looked flushed and lovely, as usual. Thea felt an unexpected stab of jealousy. Her cousin was only a year older, yet she was now a countess and mother of the future Earl of Quamby. Thea didn’t care that Antoinette was a countess but she cared greatly that she was the mother of an infant who seemed to interfere little in his mother’s quest for pleasure.
Thea longed to be a mother but the possibility seemed increasingly remote. A husband with only a moderate annuity would not be in a position to afford a penniless wife, while a gentleman with more would be in the market for an heiresses or at least a beauty who’d submit to his carnal desires with sufficient enthusiasm to compensate for her pecuniary deficiencies. And Thea knew now she could never do that.
“Your private apartments are so far from ours and we were just remarking that we’d not seen you since our outing to the Assembly Rooms and that you’d soon be charging us with neglect, so here we are.” Antoinette smiled beatifically at her aunt as she twirled a golden ringlet around her forefinger.
“I think a good deal of time might have passed before that was likely to happen,” Aunt Minerva remarked drily.
“And we also have a proposition for you, Aunt.” Bertram grinned and slanted a meaningful look at Thea. He winked. “We thought we’d take you on a grand outing tomorrow, Aunt Minerva.” He paused, adding more as an afterthought. “And Thea, if she wants to come.”
“And why do you suppose I have either the time or inclination to go on a grand outing?” Aunt Minerva demanded. “Moreover, Thea is fully engaged with a list of duties I need carried out in order to clear my head.”
Antoinette leaned forward. “Oh, but Aunt, your presence has been requested for a very worthy philanthropic duty, and I’ve been charged by Lady Umbrage to pass the message on to you.”
Aunt Minerva’s squirrel’s tail bobbed beneath her lace cap as she twisted her head to pierce her niece with a look of astonishment that quickly turned to excitement. “Lady Umbrage has requested my presence?” Her eyes were suddenly bright. “I’m sure I’d not let Lady Umbrage down if I could help it. What does she wish of me?”
“The opening ceremony at the new Foundling Hospital is tomorrow.” Antoinette smoothed her sprigged muslin skirts over her knees and offered her sweetest smile. “Knowing how much you love babies, Aunt Minerva, and owing to the fact that Lady Umbrage’s sister is unable to attend due to a chest ailment, her ladyship hoped you’d graciously agree to do the honours with her.”
“Oh, my! And what an honour it is, indeed.” Aunt Minerva hesitated. “What, exactly, am I required to do?”
“Well, there are five babies whom the governors have chosen to be specially honoured and who shall have bestowed upon them the name of a noble benefactor.”
Aunt Minerva’s hands which had been cupping her shining face dropped suddenly to her lap as her excitement turned to horror. Her nostrils twitched. “What? Give my name to some dirty, puling little bastard dropped in the basket at the gates by the Foundling Hospital?”
Antoinette and her brother exchanged glances, almost as if they’d expected something along these lines. Stoically, Antoinette did not allow her smile to falter.
Bertram cleared his throat. “Proceedings won’t take long and will be followed by a lavish breakfast at Lady Umbrage’s estate. I believe a rare and most sumptuous pudding will be served for those with a sweet tooth.”
“And of course there’ll be champagne.”
“Champagne?” Aunt Minerva’s eyes narrowed. “For breakfast?”
“There’s bound to be,” Antoinette said, cheerfully. “It’s a christening.”
“Lady Umbrage is mighty anxious you’ll say yes.” Bertram slapped his thighs. “And I promised I’d not let her down. What do you say, Aunt Minerva?”
Thea was watching proceedings with interest. She had no idea why Bertram and Antoinette was so anxious for their aunt’s cooperation, though she guessed they were concocting some plan.
Suddenly Aunt Minerva smiled. “Oh, well, I’m sure the child will be dead before long so what does it matter if I have such a namesake?” She looked as if this were happily to her satisfaction causing Thea to stare at her open-mouthed while anger made the back of her neck prickle.
“Well, I’m not going,” she muttered.
Antoinette looked aghast. “But…but you have to,” she cried.
“Surely I’m not required?” Thea didn’t care what Bertram and Antoientte’s plan might be. The thought of those darling babies being used for the pleasure and vanity of people like Aunt Minerva, who didn’t care tuppence if they lived or died, was too terrible to countenance.
“Of course you are!”
“Why?”
“So…so that you…”
Antoinete looked helplessly at her brother, who supplied smoothly, “So you can ensure Aunt Minerva’s dress isn’t soiled by the puling little creature she’ll be holding in her arms as it’s christened.”
“Holding in my arms?” cried Aunt Minerva with evident distaste. “Will I have to hold it for very long?” She shuddered. “Someone else’s …byblow? I can tell you, my dear Thea, that you most certainly will be attending with me.’
There was no use arguing but Thea didn’t at all like the prospect of having to gaze upon those poor, destitute children. Her heart would break, she knew it.
Stony faced, she listened to the arrangements made regarding time and transport and was trailing up the stairs to her room when she turned to find Antoinette at her heels.
“You must wear something charming tomorrow,” her cousin whispered hastily. “What about the jonquil pelisse over your white muslin? That’ll set off your hair nicely and it’s very…alluringly innocent.”
Thea stared at her over her shoulder. The pleasure of Antoinette’s visit had palled. “What does it matter what I wear?” She gave a gusty sigh. “It’s not as if anyone will be looking at me and besides, I don’t want to go.” A lineup of unwanted children would be like a cruel reminder that she herself was doomed to die childless and—she nearly choked on the thought—a spinster assisting her aunt increasingly into old age.
“But Aunt Minerva wants you to go and that’s all that counts.”
“Why, thank you for reminding me.”
Antoinette touched her arm to detain her. “You’ll be doing those babies a great service.” Her tone was wheedling. “Besides, think how nice it would be if you at least provided one tender heart during the whole charade. Afterwards you could cuddle them to your heart’s content.”
This stopped her in her tracks and she turned abruptly at the top of the staircas
e as a great lump rose up in her throat. What Antoinette said was absolutely true.
Antoinette, arriving at the top of the stairs, blinked as if suddenly realising her cousin’s distress. “Whatever is the matter?” she asked. “Oh! Thea darling, you really do care, don’t you?”
“Yes, I really do,” Thea whispered. “I passed the Foundling Hospital the day after it opened and I saw…” She closed her eyes as she gripped the newel post. “Near the road, some distance from the hospital, there’s a basket where unwanted babies can be placed without anyone knowing. There were two mothers fighting over who would put their baby in it.” The memory came back to her in all its awfulness and had to grip the bannister even more tightly to stop herself from swaying.
“But…they’re just babies,” Antoinette said, frowning as if she were trying to establish the real source of Thea’s tender heartedness. “They just feed and cry. I’m sure they aren’t…well, aware of anything else going on around them. They’d not miss their mothers for they’d never have known them.”
Thea couldn’t believe her cousin. “But you have a child who sleeps and feeds and cries. Surely you have feelings of tenderness for him?”
Antoinette appeared about to dismiss this, but suddenly she smiled. “You know, Thea, I never thought I’d grow so fond of young George. After all, his father—” She stopped abruptly and changed tangent. “I could have sworn the little mite called me mama this morning and my heart quite melted.”
“I wish I could see him more but you’re always out and about and never want to take me up to the nursery.” Thea sniffed. “I do love babies and, it breaks my heart to think I’ll never have one of my own.”
Antoinette looked affronted, stepping up beside her cousin to put her hand on her shoulder. “What do you think I’ve been working day and night to achieve, Thea? You will find yourself a husband worthy of you. Certainly Fanny and Bertram and I fully intend that to happen. We like you too much to see you lose your looks and to moulder away as Aunt Minerva’s handmaiden.” She bit her lip and looked worried. “That’s why time is of the essence. In a couple of years you’ll be well and truly an old maid. As for babies, don’t you worry about the ones you can’t help and the ones you want, or my little George. He wants for nothing.” She put her head on one side. “You’re not suggesting I’m at fault for not being as maternal as you think I should be, are you?”
Thea fidgeted, finding it hard to look at her. “Well, the truth is that until you admitted you were beginning to like him just a little, I thought you might as well not have a baby, Antoinette, so I didn’t think you understood what it feels like to so desperately want one.” She shuddered as she met Antoinette’s look. “I’d even suffer through all those terrible things you told me about with the right, honourably motivated, worthy husband if that’s the only way to have a baby, only what man is going to take me as his wife when I have so little to offer?”
“What horrible things?” Antoinette gasped. “I told you only the good things. The horrible part is getting the baby out!”
Thea glanced around to ensure no servants were about then whispered, “I’m talking about all those horrible things about the man nearly ripping a woman in half to achieve his…his pleasure,” she muttered. A wave of nausea rose up in her and she closed her eyes. Had she really spoken about such matters in a public place, much less at all?
Surprisingly, Antoinette’s good humour appeared suddenly restored. She even sounded relieved. “Well, that’s why I’m on hand. First of all, I can’t imagine why you should think all those things I described are terrible.” Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she clasped her hands together. “The truth is, the right man with the right touch can transport a woman into ecstasy. Why, if I told you—” She stopped, narrowed her eyes at Thea, then changed the subject. “So Mr Grayling’s kiss was like a terrible brand of shame, was it?”
Thea looked away. “I…I knew it was wrong,” she whispered as she started to make her way along the corridor towards her room. She couldn’t possible confess such things in public.
“What, exactly, did you think was wrong?”
Thea stopped and turned. “The moment he put his arms around me, and then tried to kiss me, I knew I simply had to flee if I was to retain my honour and that of the family,” she said in a rush.
Antoinette looked interested. “So in fact you didn’t really think about what you felt when he did have his arms around you and his lips on yours, and he was kissing you? All you thought about was shame and dishonour? You know that he’s told Fanny he thinks you’re the most glorious creature who’s ever crossed his orbit and that he just died with mortification when he realised you held him in the same aversion as his French wife did?” Antoinette sighed and looked sad. “Poor Mr Grayling, I feel so terribly sorry for him. He pretends to be such a rake but that’s purely to compensate for the crushing blow to his manliness he experienced at the hands of that dreadful, unfeeling foreign wife of his.”
Guilt flooded Thea at the idea of causing anyone such distress. She cleared her throat. “What was her name?”
“Whose name?”
“Mr Grayling’s French wife, of course.”
“Oh…um, Minette. But don’t you ever mention her name, as I said, for it will shred him of any strength of character that has returned to him. Few men can suffer the humiliation dealt out by a woman, and now, just when he encounters a sweet, pure and blameless creature like you, who suddenly has given him hope for some happiness in his future, you go and kick him in the shins.”
“He never used those words!” Thea gasped. Still, an unexplained excitement rippled through her. Could Mr Grayling really have been sincere in his feelings, rather than seeing her as ripe for exploitation?
“Why, didn’t we tell you that was so?” A gurgle of laughter rose up in Antoinette’s throat. “You’re blushing, Thea! See, you do think he’s a charming young man. Handsome, too, isn’t he? Yes, rather rakish, which is just the way I like them, too, though I’m perfectly content with my lovely…er…companion for the moment.”
“Lord Quamby?” Thea brought her hand up to her lips as she realised the horrified disbelief with which she’d imbued those words.
Antoinette was staring as if Thea had lost her mind. “Lord Quamby is my husband. Of course I don’t mean him, though he’s utterly darling, I’ll grant you that, even if he does prefer playing whist to conversing with me. He likes talking to Fanny, though. Their minds are far more attuned, however he does humour me when I talk about all the fun I’m having.”
Thea decided, right then and there, that she had completely missed something vital to understanding in the conversation. Antoinette’s description of marital relations was akin to describing a society that lived on some unknown planet. A man and a woman pledged utter fidelity to one another, had children, and devoted their love and attention to their offspring.
“And don’t think I’m unnatural, dearest,” Antoinette went on, voicing exactly what Thea was thinking right at that moment. “I’m worth my weight in gold to darling Quamby. I’ve provided him with an heir, and so managed to ensure he’s well and truly cut out that odious, conniving, dastardly nephew of his, Mr George Bramley.” She shuddered. “Now there’s a villain if ever I knew one. And he hates the Brightwells, so just let me repeat our warnings of earlier. If you ever think someone in your midst is trying to blacken your name or destroy your happiness or your reputation, Mr Bramley is the first person you should think of.” She brightened once more. “Not that I think you’re in any danger. You’re too sweet and innocent for him to consider a threat. However, if you look like you’re on the path to success, just watch your back and be very, very careful of villainous Mr George Bramley.”
Thea blinked and her head reeled. Bath and the high society with whom Thea rubbed shoulders was far from the harmonious, pleasure-seeking environment she imagined as the antithesis to the dreary existence she’d been living.
Antoinette patted her arm. “So, you’ll co
me to the name-bearing and wear what I told you? And with your new bonnet, which I think you should trim with daisies? Very fresh and fetching.”
Thea nodded and Antoinette gripped her hand and pulled her back towards the stairs. “Be sure you’re ready when we come by in the carriage tomorrow to fetch you and Aunt Minerva. It’s going to be a very important day for all of us…I promise you! And now, let’s go and visit young George in the nursery, shall we?’
Chapter 11
TWO carriages were supposed to be on hand but as Fenton’s was undergoing repairs, Thea and her aunt and all three cousins squeezed into the plush but cramped interior of the Earl of Quamby’s. When Thea asked what interest Bertram had in the proceedings, he looked affronted.
“I just adore babies, like you,” he said. Shifting in the tight space, he added in a contrived offhand tone but so Aunt Minerva couldn’t hear, “Actually, my good friend Mr Grayling is one of those whom Lady Umbrage asked to confer their name on these unfortunates, and he called on my expertise as an uncle twice over to stand in as his second—or at least perform the duty you’re rendering our worthy aunt, in providing the necessary assistance should the whole experience prove too much for one person.”
“But it’s just holding a baby for a few minutes,” Thea said as equably as she could, wishing her thigh wasn’t pressed so close to his. “What could possibly be onerous in holding a baby?” What she really was wondering was how on earth Bertram was suddenly on such friendly terms with Mr Grayling. Though she’d managed to sound offhand, the mention of Mr Grayling’s name had sent tremors right through her of something she couldn’t quite identify.
“Well, Mr Grayling is somewhat daunted by the prospect.” He gave Thea a friendly slap on the knee, adding, “You’ll show him how easy it is, though, won’t you?”
Rogue's Kiss (Scandalous Miss Brightwell Book 2) Page 10
