My Lady Mischief (15 page)

*

Within the town house, a short time later, Thea was notified that Charles Fossbinder, Lord Gibbons, had come to call. "Where is he, Phelps?"

"In the hall, my lady." He displayed no emotion but she wasn't fooled. It was obvious he didn't approve of Charles.

"How appropriate. Thank you." She turned to her aunt and asked, "What think you of this development?"

"I find the whole situation distasteful, Thea. His behavior toward Emma has been most ungentlemanly and I would prefer not to meet the man. You are quite capable of handling him, are you not?"

"Yes, Aunt." Thea watched her aunt's departure, and left to her own devices, fanned the embers of resentment and anger. Why did he have to come to town? Was it not enough that he'd made Emma so wretched? Must he pour salt into the wound? Emma loved him and he was a most fortunate man to have gained such loyal affection.

Thea gave him a social smile as he entered the room. "How do you do, Lord Gibbons?"

He laughed. "Such formality, Thea? And no chaperone? Is this what fine London society teaches our young ladies?" He stepped forward to capture her hands. He then swung her arms wide and did a careful survey of her, eyes moving slowly from top to toe. "You look quite the lady, my friend."

Heat traveled into her face and she abruptly snatched her hands away. "I understand congratulations are in order, Lord Gibbons. Have you come to discuss wedding arrangements with Emma?"

"Miss Rawlings has most graciously terminated our betrothal. I have come to discuss wedding arrangements with you."

Surprised that Emma had not informed her of the ended betrothal, Thea quirked an eyebrow in imitation of Hart at his most top-lofty. She turned to a sidetable, picking up the book Hart had brought her. "And who is your chosen bride, my lord?"

Charles brought his hands to her shoulders and spun her around, giving her a shake. "Enough shillyshallying, Thea. If you expect me to perform the pretty, going down upon one knee, then you are well mistaken. You know you want me, and now that I have acquired the title, there is no impediment standing in our way. Your father agrees."

"You have spoken with my father?" She couldn't believe the preposterous conceit of the man.
You know you want me,
indeed! Wishing to physically distance herself from him, she moved toward the hearth, Hart's book clutched to her bosom. The fire blazed brightly, quite like the fury inside her. "You spoke with my father before making sure of my feelings?"

"I knew your sentiments and I met him on my way in just now. It makes all the difference having his approval. My acceptance in society will soon follow."

That tore it. "Why, you son of a pignapper! Charles, you are the most conceited, self-consequent fellow—and I say fellow because I cannot bring myself to refer to you as a gentleman—I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. I would not have you if you were the last man on this planet. Now, please leave." Thea took aim with her book and started to throw it. She hesitated before launching the missile, for she didn't wish to damage the book.

Charles looked relieved as she carefully laid it down. Then before the smile could leave his face, she snatched a bronze figurine from the mantel and launched it instead. Without breaking, it barely missed her target and bounced off the heavy paneled door behind his back.

"Do not be so precipitous, Thea. You know you love me. Do not do anything now that will embarrass you later." He extended his hands to her. "Come, if you really desire it, I will make my offer to you with all the stodgy formality at my command. My father nearly plagued me to an early grave, so much did he desire the match between Emma and me. My heart was broken along with yours."

Was it possible he loved her and was willing to act less than honorably in pursuit of a happy solution to their estrangement? She thought not. Rather, it was most likely he loved her purse and her social position more than honor.

"Leave, at once." This was the second proposal she had received in this room—how many more was she destined to suffer?

He didn't go.

"I said,
leave.
If you do not go, I will call Phelps and have you bodily removed." She lifted another figurine as if testing it for weight.

"Calm down, Thea." He darted behind a chair. "If you truly do not want me, I'll have to accept it. But I will not spend months courting you." When Thea failed to respond, his voice became peevish as he asked, "Might I see Emma?"

Surely he wouldn't? "You think to change her mind about your betrothal?"

"Since you will not have me, I am certain her family will be quite relieved to find that our engagement can be resumed."

Did he think such a threat would force her to change her mind? "We will see about that. Emma will no more have you than I will." She only hoped she was correct. Poor Emma had been so troubled by thoughts of her parents' probable reaction. However, even Emma could not look upon Charles with anything but disgust since his true character had come to light.

Thea yanked the bell-pull.

Phelps immediately answered the summons. Had he been standing just outside the door and listening? Most likely, otherwise he would not have been so prompt. The perfect butler was human. Thea winked at him. "Please ask Emma to join us, Phelps."

"I am sorry, my lady, but Miss Rawlings is not at home." As he spoke, there were sounds of laughter in the hallway. All heads turned to see Emma enter the room with Mr. McCormack.

"Did I hear my name?" Emma called out gaily, then she caught sight of Lord Gibbons and her expression became guarded. Her gaze flickered to Mr. McCormack, as if seeking reassurance.

He smiled down at her, then placed his arm around her shoulders. "Have we come at an inopportune moment?"

Phelps stepped into the breach. "No, sir. Lady Althea was just asking for Miss Rawlings." He left the room after carefully replacing the bronze figurine from whence it had come. Thea noted that he made certain the door remained minutely ajar.

She turned to find Emma conversing with both men. Thea saw the assessing looks each one gave the other. At any other time she would have found the situation amusing. But not now.

"Emma, I would speak with you," Lord Gibbons said, command in his voice. "Alone." His eyes glinted when he looked at McCormack, as if willing him to disappear. Thea stood ready to come to Emma's defense but found it was not necessary.

"Thea and Mack are my dear friends, Charles. Whatever you have to say to me," she smiled sweetly at him, "they are most welcome to hear for I shall certainly discuss it with them."

Gibbons' lips gaped open, giving him the look of a shocked fish. "As you wish." He hesitated and his jaw clenched before he continued, "Might I have the pleasure of your hand in marriage?"

"Aha," Emma answered. "So Thea declined your offer?"

He shot her a look of fury before nodding.

"And what makes you think that I would have you?" Emma appeared to be deliberately baiting the man.

"It is my fondest wish and hope that you will forgive me and that your affection for me remains unchanged." His eyes hardened as he added, "And your father..."

"Ah, yes. My father is hopeful to see the last of me, is he not? Well, he should be quite satisfied when he receives my letter informing him of my betrothal—to Mr. McCormack." Emma gave Mack a dazzling smile. "So you see, I'm afraid I must decline your gracious offer, my lord."

Gibbons' face turned red with unguarded anger. He raised a fist, and for a moment Thea wondered if he meant to harm Emma. Then, dropping his arm, he turned on his heel and marched from the room without further ado. Once the doors were firmly closed, Emma laughed nervously and Thea soon joined in.

"If you had only seen your face, Thea! I cannot believe you did not suspect my regard for Mack."

"And I cannot believe the way you stood up to the knave!
'What makes you think that I would have you?'
" she mimicked her friend. "I felt uncertain whether I would scream or laugh aloud."

Mack grasped Emma's hand and then led her around the room in an impromptu dance while Thea watched their antics.

Still, this development did not resolve her problems. They still loomed heavily over her future. It was fortunate she had finally discovered Charles' true nature but her quandary remained. Could she find love before it was too late?

Chapter Twelve

 
As much as possible, Hart wiped the moisture from his brow. Most assuredly, that blackest of moments in the lifetime of mankind, the veritable pit of existence, had descended upon him, an event he'd never contemplated.

For hours he'd trudged along in silence, sloshing through deep rivulets of water. The storm had almost passed and every pore of his body was waterlogged. His jacket, a once lovely creation by one of London's superior tailors, now drooped disconsolately over his head like a nun's veil. His carrick greatcoat, with its several capes, became increasingly heavier with each pace he took.

And to complete his misery, he had lost not only his love, his future, but he had then been set upon by cutthroats, who had stolen his beaver hat and purse as well as his most favored horse. Unfortunately, they had not taken his life. He'd wanted them to but they sought only his valuables.

He saw a flicker of light ahead and breathed a heartfelt sigh. The inn. Warmth. Safety.

Without a ha'pence to his name, it was likely they'd turn him away. Would they believe his tale? There was no other choice but to take his chance on it. But with his run of foul luck, he'd probably find himself sleeping in a hayloft.

He increased his pace until one boot, once a faultlessly shiny Hessian, became mired in mud.

*

Lord Harburton's ball had been a tremendous success for everyone but Thea. She, Emma, and Lady Prunella were exhausted as they entered their carriage for the ride home.

Thea was particularly annoyed. Last night, Hart failed to attend Lady Henry's ball after requesting that she save a waltz for him. And today, he had not made his usual afternoon call.

Tonight his absence was most notable of all, for the host was his particular friend and she suspected her family's invitation had only been extended at Hart's instigation. She had received several pitying looks. Most irritating of all had been Miss Melinda Cresswell's reaction. Not only had the schemer cut her, she had turned to Lord Philligim and announced in a deliberately loud voice, "Hart tired of her soon enough!"

When the threesome arrived home, wearied and glad the night was over, Aunt Prunella said kindly, "Thea, I'd like to speak with you, if you do not mind." She turned to Emma and added, "Goodnight, dear."

Thea followed her aunt to her sitting room. At her gesture to do so, Thea took a seat, carefully avoiding the crocodile chair. Why was it necessary that they talk in private?

"Thea, I am concerned. Tell me, please, have you and Lord Hartingfield had a squabble?"

"No, er, yes." How could she explain to her aunt that they
always
argued? However, the last time she had seen him, she thought they had gotten along fairly well. "I do not believe so, Aunt."

"Then how do you explain his absence?" Lady Prunella looked at her inquiringly.

"I don't know that I can." Thea's voice wavered. "Perhaps he finally came to realize I will not marry him." She avoided her aunt's gaze.

"Ah. I begin to understand. You are upset because you sent him about his business and now you find you miss him."

"No." Thea traced the edging on a delicate candy dish. "I'm afraid that's not it at all, Aunt."

'Then tell me, child." She reached a hand out to grasp Thea's. "I hope you know I am quite willing, anxious in fact, to stand in place of your mama. I can see you are suffering and perhaps talking about it can make it better."

How could she tell her aunt what the real problem was? What would the reaction of any decent lady be upon learning her niece was a wanton who exchanged kisses with a man she didn't love? Aunt Prunella would send her back to Steyne in total disgrace. "I'm afraid talking about it will only make matters worse."

"You do know you may trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I trust you." She gave her aunt's hand a squeeze. "I simply do not wish to lose your affection."

"I cannot think of anything which you may do or say that could cause me to feel less affection for you."

How she wished she could believe that. Thea fell forward from her seat and into Aunt Prunella's waiting arms. Her scent evoked long forgotten memories of Mama, who also had worn the faintest touch of hyacinth fragrance. Tears sprang forth from Thea's eyes and she was unable or unwilling to staunch their flow. "I, I am a f-f-fast woman."

"Now, Thea, everything will be all right." Rather than evicting her from the house as she'd expected, Aunt Prunella patted and consoled her until at last, she felt much calmer. Her tears had been soothing.

Pushing herself upright, she used her handkerchief to dry her eyes. "You must think I am the veriest pea-goose, Aunt. I never cry."

"No, dear, I do not. What I do think is that the time has come for plain speaking. You must tell me exactly what has led you to believe that you are fast. I may be able to help." Aunt Prunella gave her a coy look. "You see, I was once a young woman like yourself."

Thea responded to the love in her aunt's voice. She found herself telling of her experiences with Hart and how, whenever they were alone, it seemed inevitable that they kiss. And how ashamed she felt.

"That chicken-wit! I cannot believe such an experienced man of the town could botch something so simple as this. Thea, the man is absolutely lovesick over you." She saw the negative shake of Thea's head. "Yes, my dear, he is. And, since he is as inexperienced in love as you are, he is behaving like a complete nodcock."

"I'm sorry, but he is only offering for me out of a misguided sense of honor."

"Nonsense. That may be what he tells himself to rationalize his actions, but the true state of his heart is plain to see."

"But, Aunt, his reputation as a man-about-town would indicate otherwise."