My Lady Mischief (14 page)

Of course she remembered the stodgy book of poems, as well as the candy and flowers. All had been suitable for a much older lady. And all had been appropriately acknowledged at the time.

As he continued talking in this vein, Thea allowed her thoughts to wander back to Charles and how she had ever believed herself in love with him.

For the first time, she had to face the future without that anchor. And what would replace it? Could she consider a life without marriage, without children, without love?

Hart had proved this an impossibility. His kisses made her yearn for more. Even in her naiveté, she was blushingly aware that enjoyment of kisses didn't mean she was in love. Her life would be much easier if only she was in love with one of her suitors. Could she, as many of her peers had done, undertake a marriage without love?

Her thoughts drifted back to Lord Phillingim. The man was spouting poetry from that cursed book of poems. She gave him an encouraging smile and went back to her cogitations.

Hart, the rakeshame, had claimed her lips but she would not allow him to claim her hand. He'd only park her at one of his country estates, expecting to turn her into some brood mare, while he continued with his philanderings. He would rob her purse, her love, her soul, and give nothing in return. Except those kisses.

No, she would not think of that. Anything but recall the tenderness of his lips as they caressed hers. She would have to consult her list of eligibles. Surely one of the gentlemen could claim her love?

"Lady Althea," Philligim called out rather brusquely. Thea realized he must have asked her something but she hadn't a clue what it could have been.

"Come, Lord Phillingim, arise." Feeling somewhat guilty for having ignored him, she flushed.

Pausing a moment to send her a peculiar look, he released her hand and obeyed, bowing deeply to her before seating himself on a small red velvet sofa. His clothing squealed and Thea was hard put to stifle a giggle. Lord Phillingim was a most correct, stuffy individual. However, he rivaled the Prince Regent for girth, without the royal name to protect him from ridicule. She suspected he, like the Regent, would like to imprison people who poked fun at his size. But she had to admit a certain fondness toward him, for in some lights the gentleman resembled her dear Uncle Egbert.

"Lady Althea, I ask again," he pulled at his vest, "will you please consent to be my wife?"

So this was what he had asked! She searched her mind for something to say.

"My Lord, this is so sudden."

"No, Lady Althea. The emotions you evoked within me were sudden, but I assure you that I have come to you with much thought, cogitation, and even prayer. I
feel certain we would suit each other. We are both of fine family and estates. While my income does not equal yours, I am fully capable of administering to the needs of a greater estate." He took a moment to clear his throat.

His purple-hued vest was so constricted that a button had come undone. A bit of white shirt winked out at her. Here was her first real proposal, a moment young ladies all dream of, but instead of the penultimate romantic moment of fantasy it was pure farce. At least she had to give him credit for being honest about her fortune.

"If I may be so bold," he continued, "I would like to state that your loveliness and liveliness are a great attraction to me. And, if you do not love me now, perhaps with time you will find that you may. Please, say you will be mine."

He struggled to raise himself from the sofa, rolling from side to side. Thea signaled him to remain seated. His mother must have rehearsed him, for he'd never previously spoken to her at such length. "Very prettily said, my lord. I recognize the great honor you are offering me, however, I feel we would not suit."

"Please do not be too precipitous, Lady Althea. Mayhap upon reflection you will reconsider. Shall I give you more time to weigh your decision? I hope to convince you that my admiration is true and that you can return my sentiments."

"As you wish, my lord. Yet I would warn you I do not anticipate a change in my decision." Thea bowed her head to hide her expression of amusement.

Not wishing to hurt his feelings, she waited until the sound of his footsteps faded before she laughed aloud. The man knew nothing about her other than her pedigree and her finances. Why, even Lord Hartingfield knew her better. She immediately sobered as she pushed this thought from her mind. Were all men of the
ton
so obvious, callous, and indifferent?

And, what of her resolve to fall in love and marry? Couldn't she have worked up a reasonable regard for Lord Phillingim? She shook her head sadly. There was no way.

Chapter Eleven

Thea fidgeted on the carriage seat. Hart had escorted Aunt Prunella and herself to an enlivening performance of the opera. Emma had begged off again and Thea worried about her continuing melancholy over the letter from Charles.

Hart sat across the carriage in light conversation with her aunt. Thea idly glanced out the carriage window. A deep baritone rang out, claiming her attention.

"Drrrink to me onnly with thine eyes." Two men, gentlemen by their dress, gamboled aimlessly along the sidewalk, serenading the street.

"There's no other like Rosieee!"

As their carriage passed the men, one of them stepped off the curb and stumbled. He would have fallen but for the timely intervention of the other man. Her eyes widened as she recognized him.

"Why, it's Papa! Stop the carriage!"

Hart calmly tapped on the roof of the coach and it lumbered to a halt. He stuck his head through the window and eyed the gentlemen. One of the men doffed a hat from his head and saluted their carriage while the other continued to sing about the charms of Rosie.

"I do believe. Oh." Hartingfield blinked then looked again. "Yes, it is he. The gentleman wearing the watchman's hat is," his voice broke, "my father, the duke."

"Squigy?" Aunt Prunella squeezed past him to gaze out the window. "Do not be facetious, young man, the duke is assuredly quite ill." She looked out. "Oh my."

"My father appears to be on the mend." He watched with disbelief while the duke executed a leap with a clicking of his heels. It was too much. With a groan, Hart clapped a hand over his eyes.

Thea grinned. This was too good to be missed. "Yoo-hoo, Papa," she called with a large wave, gaining her father's immediate attention.

"Why look, Squigy. It's my lovely daughter." He strolled over to the carriage, swinging his watch fob and humming beneath his breath. The duke joined him.

"So this is the enchantress," the duke glared at Hart, "I have heard so much about. Pleased to meet you, Lady Althea." He took her hand and gave it a resounding smack of the lips before turning to the earl.

"You know, Beamer, if I didn't think you'd have my head, I'd try to cut out this unlicked cub." He nodded at his son. The nod sent him momentarily off balance, and he clutched Steyne's arm for balance. He
then smiled at Thea. "What say you, my lady? Would an older gentleman have a chance at winning your hand?"

What a delightful man. She grinned back. "Certainly, my lord Duke, if my papa approves."

He poked an elbow into Steyne's ribs. "At least your gel's got spirit, Beamer."

Hart, who'd been silently moaning into his neck cloth during this exchange, uncovered his eyes and raised his head as Lady Prunella spoke up.

"Squigy? I still cannot believe my eyes," she simpered. "I was under the impression you were gravely ill." She batted her eyelashes.

The duke leaned against the carriage. "No, Prunella, it was all a rus—" The word ended in a cough. His gaze landed upon Hart and he seemed to recollect himself. "No, dear lady, I am quite recovered as you can see." He performed a quick jig with his feet.

Hart swung open the carriage door. "Join us, won't you?"

"Glad to oblige you." Both men entered the carriage as the duke continued speaking, "By the way, can you settle a dispute we are having? Beamer insists that the next stanza is about Rosie's fulsome beauty but I say it is the one about her roving eye. What say you, son?"

Hart shrugged at Thea, then answered, "I believe the next line pertains to Rosie's one true love."

"Quite right, Hart! I knew her roving eye wasn't next." Lord Steyne settled down into his seat next to Thea. "I'm glad you could join us on this auspicious occasion."

Thea bit her lip to keep from laughing. This was the first time she'd seen her father in such altitudes but she rather enjoyed it. "Why auspicious, Papa?"

"Tonight, kind relatives and friends, I received the coveted
Sacred Order of the Pig."
He bowed his head in reverent silence.

Everyone murmured sounds of approval.

"Congratulations, sir," said Hart. "And Father, how delightful to meet you in such good health."

"Yes, m'boy. I know you were surprised to see me here in town," spoke up the duke.

"Oh, no, Father. I wasn't wondering at all, especially since at our last meeting I was informed you were on your last legs."

"I have made a remarkable recovery, have I not?" The duke paused to clear his throat, then, less than discreetly, changed the subject. "I came to attend the annual meeting of our society. I must remain circumspect and not divulge the name of our group but I do feel it appropriate to give you a little hint." His voice reduced to a loud whisper. "It is an offshoot of the Gentlemen's Philharmonic Club!"

Thea didn't know how to receive this information. She had, of course, heard of the Philharmonic Club. But what, pray, had it to do with pigs? She glanced at Hart for some clue, but his smile was lopsided, reflecting his confusion.

Her father reached across the carriage to tap the duke on his knee, missed, and landed in that dignified gentleman's lap. "Excuse me, Squigy." He swooped to retrieve the duke's hat, which had fallen from his head.

As Thea helped her papa sit up, he said, "Squigy, tell them of the honor you received."

"Ah, yes." The duke brushed his hands down his lapels. "I, too, received a great honor this night." He repositioned the watchman's hat on his head, giving it a jaunty angle, then peered in the eye of each person within the carriage, as if to guarantee their attention, before continuing. "You are looking at the new
Grand Hyena"

Aunt Prunella's reaction was all the man could have hoped for. Her voice was breathless with adulation as she cooed, "Squigy! What a wonderful distinction!"

"Thank you. Thank you." He bestowed a regal smile on his most appreciative audience. "Indeed, you may be proud."

"I am." her voice was low. "I have heard that the Grand Hyena has numerous social duties."

"Yes, Prunella, that is correct."

"You will have to host several dinner parties?"

Thea watched their byplay with amusement. Whatever was her aunt hinting at?

"Indeed I will," replied the duke.

"In that event," Aunt Prunella peeped coquettishly in his direction, over her unfurled fan, "will you not be requiring the services of a hostess?

*

A week later, as Phelps showed him into Lady Prunella's town home, Hart noted a slight lessening of the formality that was the butler's usual mien. Perhaps it had something to do with his daily calls? Or that often Thea seemed pleased with him and allowed him to stay for tea?

His courtship of her was endless. He had laid his heart, his happiness, his future in Thea's palms but still he could make no headway with her. She remained adamant in her refusals to consider his offer. Possibly today something would change. Certainly, matters could not be much worse.

On this occasion, she received him with a smile and an extended hand. Did he note a fond gleam in her eyes?

"You are looking lovely today, Thea." She looked like springtime personified in a jonquil day-gown with wisps of white flowers adorning her bosom. He fought an impulse to take her into his arms. Most likely he would have, if Lady Prunella had not been seated just behind them.

When Thea glanced in the direction of his hand, he looked down at the carefully chosen book of Shakespearean sonnets he'd brought. He offered it to her and enjoyed watching her face light up when she saw the title.

"Thank you, Hart. I will find great pleasure in reading this. You know how fond I am of his work."

At least, he knew how fond she was of quoting Shakespeare. He only hoped it hadn't been a mistake to give her more armament.

Their visit passed far too quickly. He repressed a sigh. It was nearly impossible to press his suit when she was constantly surrounded by relatives or callers.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Hart did not notice a gentleman ascending the stairs immediately in front of him. A near collision ensued.

Shaken out of his reverie, Hart recognized Thea's farmer. Whatever was he doing here? "How do you do, Mr. Fossbinder?"

"Quite well, quite well, Lord Hartingfield. I have the pleasure of informing you that I am no longer Mr. Fossbinder. I am now Lord Gibbons."

"Ah, so you are the cousin who inherited the barony? My felicitations, Lord Gibbons." Hart could not keep a cynical note from creeping into his voice.

Lord Gibbons apparently missed the underlying sarcasm. In a pompous tone, he announced, "I am calling today to request the fair hand of Lady Althea. So perhaps I may be so forward as to suggest that double felicitations are in order?"

Hart's stomach clenched. He repressed the desire to harm the buffoon on Thea's doorstep. Perhaps he should call him out. Turning to do so, he discovered that Gibbons had disappeared into Lady Prunella's townhouse.

Blast it all. Thea would agree to many that social climbing, prosing upstart. And it had to happen just when she'd begun to accept him. Well, that put paid to his courtship. However unlikely, matters
had
become much worse.

Determined not to be such a cawker as to sit and watch her with her new lordling, an image which skewered him like a knife, he considered leaving London. Neither Thea nor the other members of the ton would have the pleasure of watching him defeated in his one attempt at love. Yes, he would leave. Had not a sojourn in the country been his intention before he had met this hoyden? He would depart at once for his father's country estate.