A Compromised Lady (4 page)

She tried. ‘As to that, ma’am, I have no thought of marriage. I…I find the whole idea…that is—’

Her throat tightened.

Lady Arnsworth looked away and fiddled with her rings, turning them to better display the stones.

‘Ah, yes. Your father did mention that—

‘Of course, such things are not quite unknown.’ There was something very odd in her voice, not quite distaste…She met Thea’s puzzled gaze. ‘Generally one does not approve, but under the circumstances—and your fortune is considerable. I am sure you need not worry.’ She fussed with her cuffs, still avoiding Thea’s shocked gaze.

Thea said nothing to this, but gripped her underlip hard between her teeth.

‘Naturally your years of, er, mourning have given you ample time for reflection.’

‘They certainly have,’ said Thea, finding her voice.

Looking far more at ease, Lady Arnsworth said carefully, ‘Indeed your feelings are quite understandable. I found the marriage act most unpleasant myself. But it is our duty. And once you have done your duty and provided the heir—and a spare, of course—if you wish it, most gentlemen will respect a lady’s natural modesty and seek their pleasures elsewhere for the most part. Men, of course, are different. Very different. Now, I must change. I will be out this evening, but tomorrow we will have to do some shopping.’ She cast a pained glance at Thea’s travelling dress. ‘Yes. A new wardrobe is of the first importance! I venture to suggest that you will feel very different when properly gowned!’

And with that, Lady Arnsworth whisked herself out of the room.

Staring at the closed door, Thea faced the fact that her father had told Lady Arnsworth the truth.

Or at least the truth as he saw it. And she had the oddest notion that it had not been the fifty thousand pounds that had tipped the balance for Almeria Arnsworth…although that would certainly be the case with most of society. She felt sick to her stomach, thinking of the next couple of months to be spent in the full glare of society and its crowding, jostling throng…all of whom would turn on her if they knew the truth…From nowhere panic ambushed her, sinking familiar claws deep. Her stomach clenched, warding off the striking terror. She forced her body to relax, her lungs to draw breath steadily, blanking her mind. And as suddenly it was gone, a chill warning, leaving her cold and shaking, but free and rational. Free to wonder if she had been completely insane to imagine that she could do this.

As the drawing room door clicked behind Almeria and her houseguest, Richard throttled the urge to swear resoundingly. He could only marvel at the neatness of the trap, as he sat down. A trap compounded of his own good manners. The same good manners that would keep him from strangling his godmother when she returned. Very well, he was fond of Almeria too, and she was family.

‘Quite a coincidence that you are here to greet my sister, Blakehurst,’ remarked David in biting accents.

Richard’s normally even temper flickered. ‘Just so,’ he said. ‘Do take a seat again, Winslow.’

Perhaps he would strangle Almeria. Affectionately, of course. If he lived long enough. Judging by Winslow’s narrowed gaze, there was every chance he might not.

‘You are staying in town?’ David asked, in deceptively casual tones. He remained standing.

Not deceived in the slightest, Richard said, ‘I am. Here, as a matter of fact.’

The silence that followed this admission seethed.

Richard sat back and waited. Winslow’s grey eyes resembled nothing more than twin blades.

‘How very…convenient.’

Richard’s temper did a great deal more than flicker. It smoked and curled at the edges. Winslow’s attitude reeked of protective elder brother, although why he would imagine that Thea required protection from himself was beyond Richard’s comprehension. And there was something else in Winslow’s level gaze: scorn.

‘Can I pour you a brandy?’ he offered politely, damping down his temper.

Winslow declined. ‘Thank you. No. I will take my leave of you.’

Richard smiled. ‘Then no doubt I shall see you again. You will be calling on Miss Winslow, I dare say.’

‘Most definitely,’ her brother replied in clipped tones. ‘If only to keep an eye on all the scaff and raff who cluster around heiresses.’

Richard blinked. Then anger welled up—it was a very long time since anyone had accused him of being a fortune hunter. And even then, at least he had been well aware of the chit’s fortune! This time…

‘No need to summon the butler. I’ll find my own way out.’ David executed a perfunctory bow and left.

Left alone, Richard said several things he had suppressed when Almeria left the room—and a few more for good measure. While he’d known that Thea must at least be respectably dowered, the term heiress suggested a great deal more. And while Almeria’s penchant for dropping stray heiresses in his path had caused him considerable embarrassment on occasion, he couldn’t recall that it had ever put him in danger of his life before. There had been a definite glint of gun metal in Winslow’s eyes.

He took a deep breath. And then there was Thea herself. Something had wrought a change in her that went far beyond years. Far beyond the change from a young girl on the eve of her come-out to a young woman. Thea-the-girl had been exuberant, bubbling over with mischief. Thea-the-woman seemed half-lost in shadow…only there had been that flash of light when their hands met—

as though something had awakened inside her.

And as for her blasted, hitherto unsuspected fortune—Winslow was right; it would have the fortune hunters out in force.

By the time Almeria returned to the drawing room, he had managed to reduce the situation to its proper proportion. Almeria was matchmaking. No more. No less. He rose as she sailed into the room, saying airily, ‘I must have forgot to make clear to you that Dorothea will be my guest for the Season!’ Tis positively shocking how forgetful one becomes as the years advance!’

Despite himself, Richard nearly grinned. ‘Quite shocking,’ he said gravely. Not that he, nor anyone else, would dare suggest to Almeria that she was advanced in years. Although she must be slipping if she expected him to believe that all this had not been carefully prearranged.

Occasionally a little unsubtlety was called for.

He settled for being extremely unsubtle.

‘Almeria—what the deuce are you up to?’

‘Up to?’ she said with a lift of her brows. ‘Why should you imagine I am up to anything? Really, Richard!’

‘Fudge,’ he said bluntly. ‘Don’t waste your breath, Almeria. Instead, tell me precisely what is the extent of Thea’s fortune. I was not aware she had one.’

Almeria looked a little conscious. ‘Her godfather’s fortune. Not the sort of thing one counts on, although he always intended to leave it to her, but after all, he might have married. And it is not a terribly big fortune as these things go, of course.’

The prickle at the back of his neck escalated into outright alarm bells.

‘Just how not-terribly-big are we talking about here?’ he pressed.

‘Only fifty thousand,’ said Almeria with an airy wave. ‘And derived from trade, of course!’ This last with a faint grimace.

Fifty thousand? Only fifty thousand? Hell and damnation! With that much at stake, it wouldn’t surprise him to hear that Almeria already had the special licence in her reticule and a tame bishop in the back parlour.

The suspicion that he had stepped into a well-laid and very sticky trap was unavoidable.

But he could make one or two things plain.

‘Almeria—let us be quite clear. Although I intend to marry, I am not in the market for an heiress, and—’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Almeria settled her skirts with a swish as she sat down. ‘Naturally when Aberfield asked that I chaperon Dorothea, I thought of you—since you were going to visit me anyway…’ She looked more than a trifle evasive.

‘Was I?’

Richard couldn’t recall his plans including anything of the sort. Almeria’s summons to visit her as soon as he reached town had arrived several days ago quite unheralded. However, that wasn’t to say that Almeria’s plans…

She glared at him. ‘Since I was intending to invite you—’

The moment she had an heiress staying with her—that went without saying.

‘Richard, you must marry sensibly!’ she said crossly. ‘You need a wife, the right wife. Especially now that you have bought that property in Kent. One assumes you intend to get an heir!’

Wisely, Richard held his counsel. There was nothing to gain from encouraging Almeria. No matter how right she happened to be.

‘And as for leaving these things to take care of themselves,’ she said, returning to an earlier theme,

‘I would have thought the danger of that was made plain by the appalling mess Max has—’

‘Enough!’ He controlled himself with an effort and said in a gentler tone, ‘Almeria, I cannot possibly remain here if you are to criticise Max and Verity. He is happy. Does that count for nothing?’

Goaded, Almeria snapped, ‘And how long can it last before she does something disgraceful?’

Enough was enough. ‘Like what? Cuckold him? Is that what you mean?’

Her colour rose. ‘Exactly!’

He shrugged. ‘Then he would have to cope with it. In his own way.’ Seeing Almeria’s mouth open, he added, ‘Just as our father did, in fact.’

Her mouth closed.

‘Did you think I never realised? That summer I broke my leg and stayed with you here, I knew then.’

Almeria was scarlet. ‘At least my sister was discreet!’ she said furiously. ‘I do not say that I approved of her behaviour, but she did not bring any disgrace upon the family!’ With which she rose, swept past him and left the drawing room again. The door shut with the sort of controlled click that was a well-bred woman’s alternative to slamming it. Settling back in his chair, he took a measured sip of brandy and muttered a few things that it was as well Almeria couldn’t hear. What the devil was he to do now?

He had to wonder if every god in the pantheon had conspired against him. His laudable plan of reconciling Almeria to Max’s marriage was clearly misfiring. Instead of accepting his own delight in the match, the mere sight of him was enough to stir up all her outrage at the ruin of his supposed expectations. Worse, she was now about to fling fifty thousand pounds’ worth of heiress at his head. Although probably not with Aberfield’s blessing.

In fact, Aberfield would probably succumb to apoplexy if he knew what Almeria was up to. A viscount, and a wealthy one at that, Aberfield didn’t have a seat in the cabinet any more, but he wielded a fair amount of influence with those who did.

Almeria was howling at the moon. Aberfield would never accept a match to a younger son, remarkable only for living within his means, his fortune respectable but no more, and about as much interested in a political career as he was interested in succeeding to his twin’s title—to wit, not at all. All Richard wanted was a quiet, private life improving his recently purchased acres and reading his books.

Nigel Lallerton was a younger son. He dismissed that as irrelevant. Lallerton had been set for a safe seat in parliament, supporting his father’s interest. Not to mention Aberfield’s interest.

Lallerton’s father, Lord Chasewater, had been an old political crony. No doubt the match was stitched up between them as mutually beneficial. It had probably been sheer luck that Thea had cared so deeply for Lallerton.

Stretching out his stiff leg, he considered his options.

If he returned to the country, Almeria would think it was because of what she’d said about Verity.

Richard frowned. Max could look after Verity, but even so, he hesitated to expose his sister-in-law to any more of Almeria’s rancour. Nor did he wish the rift between Max and Almeria to widen.

Besides, Almeria would be hurt if he left. She was actually fond of him, he reminded himself firmly.

When he’d broken his leg, she had come up to town and had him to stay as soon as the doctors said his leg had healed enough for him to travel. Not that a twelve-year-old with a broken leg, wondering if he would ever walk again, had been precisely grateful for that, but nevertheless she had been kind to him. Buying him as many books as he could read, insisting that the kitchen made his favourite cake at least once a day. She had even put up with his dog, although she hated dogs in the house.

He grimaced. His own mother, while professing to be utterly devoted to her sons, had attended a succession of house parties that summer. He hadn’t understood why at first…Almeria had taken over. Brisk, no-nonsense and frequently acerbic on the subject of his idiocy in trying to ride that damned hunter in the first place, but she had been there, while his own mother wafted through London several times between gatherings and recommended laudanum when she thought he looked out of sorts. She had invariably been accompanied by Lord Ketterley—he grimaced.

Ketterley had seemed such a decent fellow…it had been Max, cynical, rebellious Max, who had worked it all out…

Almeria hadn’t even complained when she discovered that he had inveigled Myles into playing chess with him. Her face when she caught them, though! Three days later she had appeared triumphantly with her other godchild, five-year-old Thea Winslow, announcing that Dear Dorothea is come to stay as well, and she is most interested in learning to play chess… The twelve-year-old Richard had barely choked back his disgust at having dear, little Dorothea foisted upon him. He’d taught her to play chess in sheer self-defence.

He found himself smiling as he remembered the little girl who had pored over the chess board, chewing her bottom lip with her untidy curls for ever falling into her eyes. Even at sixteen when she had made her come-out, her unruly curls had tended to escape their bonds. He’d teased her for it…He frowned as something occurred to him; there hadn’t been a wisp in sight today. For all he knew, she might be bald under that ghastly bonnet. Not that he understood anything about fashion, but he could recognise an ugly bonnet when he saw one.

An odd thought came to him—could he help Thea?

Help Thea? An heiress?

Even an heiress needs a friend.