A Compromised Lady (18 page)

Richard retreated to the back parlour upstairs, shaken by the near cracking of his control. Having Thea in his arms like that…he wanted her. Had wanted to tip her face up and kiss her until she had forgotten whatever reasons she had for not marrying.

He forced his mind back to Max’s letter. Almeria had actually taken the fell tidings much better than he had anticipated. He suspected that she was feeling rather small and foolish after her behaviour towards Max’s bride, that she did not wish to climb down for a generous serving of humble pie. He thanked God that Max had actually written to her directly, rather than relying on him to make the announcement. Perhaps in a day or so she would be a little more resigned over the birth of…He frowned, attempting to decipher a little more of his brother’s scrawled letter…ah, William Richard. He grinned. As long as Almeria could be persuaded to attend the christening, all would be well.

A discreet cough interrupted his thoughts.

‘Mr Blakehurst, sir?’

He turned and looked at the young footman standing in the doorway. ‘Yes, Edmund?’

The young man shifted from one foot to the other, as though unsure of himself.

‘I’ve a note here for Miss Winslow.’

‘She is still in the breakfast parlour, I believe.’

‘Yes, sir. It’s just, well, after that one t’other day—you asked me about who brought it, and I think this might be another from the same person.’ He proffered the note to Richard. ‘An’ from what James says, there was another one for Miss Thea.’

Damn. He should have told Edmund to alert James, but what excuse could he possibly have given for checking Thea’s correspondence?

‘Thank you, Edmund. I’ll take it.’

The same excuse he was going to give now—none.

But what the hell was he to do with it once he’d opened it? Hand it over to Thea? Richard stared at the sealed note, his gaze narrowed. It looked like the same scrawl as on the first notes. The seal a plain blob of wax. And Thea had received another…which she hadn’t mentioned to him. Why not?

‘When did the other note come for Miss Winslow?’ he asked slowly.

‘Yesterday, James said,’ answered Edmund. ‘He reckons he gave it to Miss Thea at breakfast.’

Yesterday at breakfast? His stomach lurched. And Thea had fainted. Damn it! She’d been upset by one of these blasted notes. No wonder she’d been upset and confused.

But why hadn’t she told him about the note? He already knew about the first one, so—? He’d wanted to find out who it was, and stop it. Thea hadn’t wanted that. Why? Good God! Did she imagine he’d believe the sort of person who would pen filth like that? And was he really going to hand more of this filth to Thea? The hell he was!

His decision made, he broke the seal and opened the note. The ugly words slashed across the paper: SLUT! How many times did he have you, you filthy little trollop?

Searing rage gripped him. Bad enough that his own note had accused him of bedding Thea, but to fling the muck at her—something akin to a snarl escaped him.

‘Sir?’

‘Pushed under the door again, was it?’ It was all he could do to keep his voice calm. He wanted to smash things.

‘Yes, sir.’ Edmund hesitated, then said, ‘Only this time I saw him, sir. I was coming back from taking a note for her ladyship an’ saw him at the door.’

‘You did? Do you know him?’

‘No, sir. Not to say know,’ said Edmund. ‘No livery. But I’ve seen him about. Often holds a horse for a penny. Anyway, I hope I’ve not done the wrong thing, sir, but I’ve taken him round to the mews.’

‘You’ve done what?’

Edmund looked uncertain. ‘You did want to speak to him, didn’t you, sir?’

‘Oh, yes. I definitely want to speak to him,’ answered Richard, crushing the note and shoving it in his pocket.

He was going to deal with this before leaving for Blakeney. Thea might have refused his offer of marriage, but she was going to have his protection and help whether she liked it or not.

The boy, who laid claim to the name of Jacob, stared at up at Richard from his seat on an upturned bucket in mute confusion.

‘Dunno, sir.’

Richard tried again. ‘Well, a man or a woman?’

The lad’s brow cleared. ‘Oh. A lidy, sir. A real lidy,’ he added. His gaze wandered around the stable yard, and became openly admiring as Richard’s chestnuts were led out of their stalls.

Richard waited with scant patience as the boy cast a worshipful eye over the horses. ‘And can you describe her?’ he prompted at last.

The boy jerked his attention away from the horses with obvious reluctance.

‘Wore black,’ he said. ‘Black dress, black hat, and one of them veils. Real heavy one it were.

Couldn’t see her face hardly at all. Gloves too.’

Richard frowned. ‘So you couldn’t tell me if she was old or young?’

‘Oldish, I think, sir,’ said the boy hesitantly. ‘It’s her voice. Dunno why, sir, but she sounds older now I think on’t.’

Richard suppressed a curse, mindful of the boy’s wide-eyed gaze.

That did narrow the field somewhat, but not enough. Which of the ton’s tabbies would have something to gain from destroying Thea’s reputation? And the letters were not aimed at Thea’s reputation, but directly at Thea herself. Did it have something to do with this bizarre tale that had sprung up about Lallerton being murdered?

‘I can show you where she lives, if you like, sir.’

‘You can—’ Richard stared at the boy. Children were like that, he reminded himself. They answered the question asked. He hadn’t thought to ask about where she lived…

Twenty minutes later Richard gazed disbelievingly up at a small house in Half Moon Street.

‘Who did you say lives there?’

The hurrying footman he had stopped obligingly repeated himself and then went on his way.

The house seemed to gaze back benignly—the epitome of discreet elegance. Impossible. There was no reason—surely! Yet…the connection was there…

He looked down at the boy who had brought him here. ‘Are you certain, Jacob?’

The boy bristled at his dubious tone. ‘Aye. Told you; I followed her.’

Perhaps there was a strange logic to it after all, albeit twisted and bitter. Which shouldn’t surprise him, given the content of the letters. He grimaced. Indeed, a very ugly pattern was beginning to emerge.

‘Very well.’ It couldn’t be coincidence that Jacob had led him here. He handed him a half-crown.

‘There you are. Take care of it. And remember what I said; don’t hang about here for a while and if you see her again, keep clear.’

The boy rushed off with a wave of thanks, and Richard trod up the steps to the front door to tug on the doorbell. He waited, bracing himself for what promised to be a most unpleasant interview.

A footman answered the door.

Richard handed him his card. ‘Inform Lady Chasewater that Mr Richard Blakehurst has called.’

He was shown into the hall. ‘Please to wait here, sir, while I see if her ladyship is at home.’

‘Thank you.’

He supposed he could understand Lady Chasewater feeling bitter about her son’s death, but why take it out on Thea? Could the woman resent that her son’s chosen bride was alive and well? Was she perhaps a little mad?

A moment later the footman was back. ‘You are to come up, sir. Her ladyship will see you.’

He was ushered into a dimly lit drawing room. Lady Chasewater was seated on a sofa beside the fire. Clad in black, spine ramrod straight, her mittened hand rested on the top of a jewelled cane.

She inclined her head. ‘Mr Blakehurst. Do, please, be seated. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

He met her gaze levelly. ‘I doubt that pleasure is quite the word to use, and I think I shall remain standing. This is not a friendly visit.’

He brought the three notes out of his pocket. ‘Do you have some explanation for this filth, ma’am?

Beyond sheer vindictive cruelty, that is. What did you think to achieve?’

A cold smile twisted her mouth. ‘Ah. Miss Winslow worked it out at last, did she? And ran to you, begging you to stop me. I expected the brother, you know.’

His fist clenched. ‘Miss Winslow worked it out when she saw your first note, ma’am. And all she said was that the person who had sent it was unhappy.’

A muscle twitched in the sunken cheek.

Richard continued. ‘She did not, however, identify you, and to the best of my knowledge, her brother knows nothing of the notes. I should also tell you that she has not, and will not, see this one. I repeat, Lady Chasewater—what did you think to achieve?’

She ignored the question. ‘If Miss Winslow didn’t tell you, what made you think of me?’

He’d thought of this. Lying seemed contemptible, but the last thing he wanted was this vindictive old woman going after the boy. ‘I set someone on to watch the boy you used. You were seen handing the note to him this morning.’ All true enough, but slightly expurgated.

‘I wore a veil.’

‘And came back here.’

A harsh laugh escaped her. ‘As easy as that. Well, no matter. I suppose you are here to tell me not to send any more letters? Very well. You may rest easy on that head.’

Suspicion flickered. That had been too easy.

‘And may one assume—’

‘You may assume whatever you please, Mr Blakehurst, but there will be no more letters. I’ve tastier fish to fry.’ She reached out and rang the bell. ‘I think we have nothing more to say to each other, Mr Blakehurst, save perhaps that I think you are a fool. Good day, sir.’

Anger seared every vein, all the hotter for being impotent.

‘You hide behind your sex, madam,’ he said coldly. ‘I assure you that only that, not your age, saves you from a direct challenge. But understand this—if you distress Miss Winslow by any other means, I will find a way to strike at you.’

A cold smile played about her mouth. ‘Then, Mr Blakehurst, we shall see what manner of fool you are. A chivalrous one, or an ignorant one.’

‘Of course, I won’t be attending this…this christening party!’ announced Lady Arnsworth as she stepped into the barouche for the planned visit to Bond Street. ‘Really, I cannot think why Blakehurst has asked me to stand as godmother. He must have known what my response would be. And it is not as though he wishes me to do so. He has asked only because he feels obliged!’

Catching a glimpse of the footman’s unconvincingly stolid face as he put up the steps and closed the door on this announcement, Thea winced. Lady Arnsworth never seemed to make the connection between gossip and talking unguardedly in front of her servants. Then again, perhaps she did. She looked a little self-conscious. ‘You will not repeat that to Richard, will you? He has some ridiculous idea that Max’s marriage is a good thing. Even though he is disinherited!’

She wouldn’t need to. From the footman to Richard’s groom, to Richard? He’d have heard about it before he left London.

‘But, surely Richard never expected to inherit the earldom?’ queried Thea. Perhaps another, disinterested voice might make itself heard?

‘Certainly not,’ said Lady Arnsworth. ‘And neither did Max, but after Frederick’s death—why, it was clearly understood that Max would remain unwed for Richard’s sake.’

Judging by Richard’s support of his twin’s marriage and delight at the birth of the child who had supplanted him, Thea took leave to doubt that Richard had been counting on this at all. She cast a nervous glance at the coachman’s very rigid back. A wonder that his ears weren’t visibly flapping.

‘And anyway, I wouldn’t dream of leaving town at the moment with this dreadful story flying about,’ said Lady Arnsworth. ‘No, no. It is not to be thought of. Having undertaken to chaperon you, I must not be thinking of my own pleasure!’ She leaned over and patted Thea on the knee.

Drat! Richard was right. Lady Arnsworth was going to hide behind her chaperonage of Thea as an excuse. But people would know…Thea felt a jolt of sympathy for the unknown countess. Richard liked her. Richard was determined that his aunt should attend the christening, not simply because of potential damage to the family name and status, but because he was fond of his sister-in-law and didn’t want her hurt.

But what could she do to help? It would take a very strong motive to shift Lady Arnsworth from London to Kent…Thea gulped. The reason that occurred was devious if not downright shabby. It might, however, take the trick.

What had Richard said of his sister-in-law? Verity suffered enough with her own family.

No matter the shabbiness of the stratagem, Lady Arnsworth must not refuse to attend. The gossip if she did so would be horrific.

‘I have always heard that Blakeney is very lovely,’ said Thea thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if Rich—er, Mr Blakehurst, will return before the christening? I understand he has been asked to stand as godfather. He seems very happy about it.’ She heaved an audible sigh. ‘I dare say you will very much miss having him about the house.’

She found that she was holding her breath. Would the bait be snapped up? Or had she overdone it?

Lady Arnsworth was looking at her in a very startled fashion. ‘Ah, yes. Yes. Of course.’ A slight pause. ‘You know, dear—Blakeney is very lovely at this time of the year. A shame to miss it.’

‘I should so much like to see Blakeney one day,’ said Thea, injecting a tone of wistfulness into her voice.

‘Oh. Well, I suppose…of course…’ Her ladyship’s expression gave new layers of meaning to the word smug. ‘Richard grew up there, you know.’

‘Yes,’ murmured Thea.

‘And his own estate is not so far off.’

‘Richard—I mean, Mr Blakehurst mentioned that he had purchased an estate,’ said Thea.

Lady Arnsworth waved dismissively. ‘Only a small one.’ She sniffed. ‘And after all my hopes! He bought it last year, after Max married. He said he had meant to buy his own place for quite some time, but really, there was no need until—’ She pursed her lips and gave Thea a considering glance. ‘You know, my dear, I do think you must stop calling me Lady Arnsworth and call me Almeria. As Richard does. After all—’ She broke off and then started again. ‘Ah, yes. Where was I?

You know, I dare say that if I were to write and explain the circumstances, Blakehurst would be more than happy for you to come to Blakeney. So sad for Richard to be cut out, but one must make the best of it! And I shall depend upon you to choose a suitable christening gift for me. So difficult to know what to buy a boy. For a girl, of course, a gift of jewellery is most appropriate.’