My Lady Mischief (5 page)

Chapter Four

Thea studiously smoothed her skirts and fixed her eyes upon her agitated friend.

"I have previously informed you about the attentions Mr. Charles Fossbinder has been paying me." Emma peeped at Thea through downturned lashes.

Thea froze, certain that the moment she'd been dreading had arrived. Emma and Charles must be betrothed! "Go on," she said through stiff lips.

"Last evening, Charles was closeted with my father for over an hour. This morning my mother has hinted that he received Father's blessing to proceed with his suit." Emma placed the back of one hand to her brow as silent tears dripped down her face. "She then reminded me of my duty to the family and to my brothers. Father must soon settle an allowance on them and he would be rid of the expense of my upkeep." The dam broke and Emma began to sob in earnest.

"Oh, no." Thea's distress colored her words as she pulled Emma's head down upon her shoulder. "How could they be so cruel to one as sweet as you?"

Sobbing into Thea's shoulder, Emma mumbled, "You are aware of my fondness for Charles but I cannot bear the thought of achieving my happiness at your cost. And I have not forgotten our promise to marry brothers so that we may be sisters."

Emma dug in her reticule for a handkerchief. Thea, knowing her companion would never find one, removed her own from her sleeve and handed it to the distraught young woman.

"That was a mere childhood fancy, Emma. But I will always remain your sister, in thought if not in matrimony."

After her emotional storm abated somewhat, Emma dried her eyes. "Did you have an opportunity to speak with your father about Charles?"

Thea nodded. "The situation seems hopeless. Papa has insisted upon my having a season in London. If after that, Charles is still unwed, I might have a chance of bending Papa's mind." Thea turned away from Emma, her voice breaking.

"I suspect Papa may be arranging a marriage of convenience for me." She stoically lifted her chin. "In that event, I know I shall expire of anguish."

Emma grasped Thea's hands in her own. "Surely your father does not wish to make you miserable." Choking back another sob, Emma stood and raised plump hands to her bosom. "How could the fates have been so cruel—to give us families whose worldly ambitions are more important to them than their daughters' own happiness? Whatever shall we do?"

"You, Emma, must accept Charles' offer." Thea spoke with conviction in her voice, drawing strength from the depth of her feelings for Emma and the knowledge of her own virtuous sacrifice. "At least one of us shall achieve true happiness."

"Oh, Thea, you are so good, so fine. However did I earn such a friendship as yours?" Placing one hand over her heart, Emma pledged, "You shall be named as godmother to my first child."

Thea calmly accepted the pledge as her due. "You are truly kind, my sister." Feeling guilty because she could not rid herself of the slight hope that something might develop to reverse the situation, she reminded herself that she cared too much for Emma to be jealous of her good fortune. "For you and Charles to be blissfully happy shall be my greatest reward."

After knocking heartily upon the door, Mack entered Hart's bedchamber to observe his friend's head looming above a screen separating the dressing area from the sleeping portion of the room. Dominating the latter area was a massively majestic velvet-tasselled four-poster bed. Mack cautiously took a seat upon it while noting its ornate embellishments.

"Have you just arisen, Hart?"

"Up with the worms again?" Hart replied waspishly. "I had forgotten your vulgar foreign ways."

"Please accept my apologies for disturbing you, your lordship," Mack said with a grin that belied his sarcastic tone. "Lord Steyne awaits us. Put a spur on, will you?"

Hart and his valet continued the arduous process of properly outfitting his person in a manner befitting a country gentleman. Mack grimaced at the sight of Hobbs' face. The valet's left eye was nearly swollen shut.

"Did you run into Hart's fist, Hobbs?"

Hart chuckled as Hobbs replied grimly, "No, Mr. Mack. I was making inquiries, at his lordship's command, pertaining to the toothsome maid in whom he has taken an interest."

"And you call yourself a gentleman, Hart. I thought you would be too high in the instep for a mere servant." Mack turned to Hobbs. "Her inamorata objected?"

"No," was Hobbs' response. His carefully cultivated diction began to deteriorate as his agitation grew. "I'm not really sure of the right of it, Mr. Mack. There we were, me an' the upper footman, getting along all right and tight when I coyly popped in a question about the earl's fair Paphian, known as Thea. Next I know, the fellow's muggers come up and he blackens me ogler. Never seen the like of it afore. No explanation nor nothing."

Mack bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Lady Althea a fair Paphian, indeed! What deviltry had Hart been up to anyway? And with the earl's daughter of all people. He reclined on the bed and crossed his legs, finding himself mesmerized by the detail on the tester overhead.

"Care to let us in on the joke, Mack?"

His attempts to keep a straight face must have been less than successful. "No. I can't perceive what you've been about, Hart, unless you're a bit foggy in your upperworks." He smiled a reassuring grin. "However, you will come around to it in time, I'm sure." Glancing up once more, he asked with awe, "How can you get any rest in this monstrosity?"

Hart smiled. "It hasn't been easy. Now be off with you and let me complete my toilette in peace."

Mack arose from the bed elan. "Certainly, your lordship," he said with a deep bow suitable for the Prince Regent. "I will await you in the estate room." He closed the door as he left.

Hart could hear Mack's guffaw through the thick oaken door separating them. Turning to his valet, he asked, "What do you think that was about?"

"I can't be sure, sir, but I still suspicion something about that parlormaid of yours."

*

Thea's foot rested on the topmost step, where it had remained immobile for some moments while she mentally prepared to join their guests for supper.

Generally, she wasn't this indecisive. Her previous scheme to force Hart to reject her as a possible spouse hadn't come off as she'd hoped. Now, she had to face him again and couldn't keep memories of his kiss from intruding on her thoughts. Did all young women who were kissed feel this way or was there something unusual about her? Miss Mimms had said that young ladies didn't allow men to accost their person. Perhaps this was what she meant. Hart's kiss had certainly felt like an assault, at least to her senses. She'd never anticipated such a reaction from merely pressing a gentleman's lips to her own.

She bit her lip. She'd learned something from this scheme of hers. If one touch of a rake's lips made her want to throw away years of training, was she no better than Mrs. Twining? Blood rushed to her face.

Nonsense, she scolded herself. The marquess hadn't known who she was when they'd last met. Could she use his mistake to her advantage? Hart most definitely wouldn't want an abandoned woman as his new Marchioness. If only she could get through this evening without causing him to revise his opinion of her.

Yet, she had to keep her father in mind. This evening, she'd dressed in a manner in which he would most assuredly approve. The butterflies dancing in her stomach began to annoy her.

"Good evening, Lady Althea."

Turning, she recognized Mr. McCormack. He extended an arm and she placed her hand on it for him to escort her down the stairway. "Thank you."

A playful smile lit his face as he bent down to say, "I'm very much looking forward to the coming introductions."

She peeped at him. "You are?"

He laughed. "I can't wait to see Hart's face."

Hart.
That seemed appropriate. But this must mean Mr. McCormack knew that Hartingfield hadn't yet penetrated her identity. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play your jests on me, Lady
Thea,
for I'm sure you had much to do with it."

She paused to frame her reply. "Not to say I deliberately misled him."

This time Mr. McCormack guffawed and slapped his thigh. "You're up to all the larks, aren't you? I'm willing to bet you didn't deliberately educate him, either."

Thea grinned at him. "It has been rather fun. Why didn't you tell him?"

"What, and miss the sport?" He shook his head. "Never."

They entered the drawing room. Thea's gaze went directly to Lord Hartingfield where he stood beside the hearth. She barely noticed the look of approval her father directed at her. Miss Mimms sat beside him and nodded happily.

No, she had eyes only for Hart. If she'd thought him handsome before, she was even more impressed seeing him in evening dress. Dismissing an urge to turn and hide, she straightened her chin.

Mr. McCormack placed his hand over hers and dragged her toward the marquess. "May I have the pleasure of introducing our host's daughter, Hart?"

"Lady Althea, I'm happy to present Lord Hartingfield." Mr. McCormack dropped her arm and stepped back.

Thea curtsied as Hart bowed.

"How do you do," said Hart in a perfunctory tone. Rising from his low bow, he glanced up and directly into her eyes. She grinned at his look of astonishment. "Good heavens! The parlormaid."

"I've been eagerly awaiting this moment, my lord." Thea batted her lashes at him and was happy to note his discomfort. After the offer he made, this comeuppance was justly deserved. "Had you no suspicion? I was certain Mr. McCormack would have enlightened you."

"He obviously felt it too good a joke to share, Lady Althea." As if unwilling to allow her such an easy victory, he asked, "Do you frequent masquerades?"

Thea felt her color rise. Then she gleamed wickedly at him. "Do you always make advances to parlormaids, my lord?"

"Do you never discourage such advances?"

"Touché Lord Hartingfield," said Thea with a laugh. He'd hit rather close to home on that one.

"
I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass."
He shot her an ironic smile.

"Indeed, my lord." She recognized the quotation from Shakespeare. At least the cur was well-read. In spite of her desire to put him on the spot, her lips twitched in appreciation.
"Egregiously an ass,"
she quipped back.

"Please accept my apologies, Lady Althea." Despite his words, he gave no indication that he regretted his behavior. She smiled at him nervously.

"I hope you will permit me to make amends for my earlier behavior." He took her hand in his and placed a kiss upon it.

Her smile died. Although his words were clear, his tone was not. "I will permit you to make the attempt, my lord."

He deliberately held her hand a little longer than necessary. She pulled it back as she suddenly recalled the watchful eyes of Mr. McCormack.

A wicked glow lit Mack's face. "Give him a rare trimming, Lady Althea, for he surely deserves one."

"Mack, you imp spawn, you already knew about Lady Althea?" asked the marquess. "And you said nothing to me?" With a friendly malevolence in his voice that hadn't been there in his exchange with her, he threatened his friend, "I'll be even with you, yet."

He turned his attention back to Thea.

"I'm feeling sorely used," he murmured before she could further rake him over the coals. "This noon, your papa gave me a stiff lecture pertaining to the inadvisibility of dallying with his staff. He failed to mention that I'd been dallying with his own daughter."

"Is this your manner of making amends, my lord?" Thea teased. "Are you looking for a scapegoat on which to lay your blame?" She tossed her head playfully. All of a sudden, like the winding down of a clock, her laugh faded into silence. At the door stood Charles with Emma's hand snugly tucked in the crook of his arm.

The color in Thea's cheeks fled. Charles looked at her with a disapproving frown, his eyes scouring over the gentlemen near her. But Thea's eyes were on Emma, who wore a Madonna-like smile.
Were they now betrothed?

The bustling activity at the door continued as the footman trumpeted the arrival of their dinner guests. Squire Septimus Fossbinder came forward in avid discussion with Emma's father, the Reverend Mr. Rawlings. They were followed by their respective spouses as well as Charles' sister, Jane. By the closed expression on that young woman's face, it was apparent that Jane and the squire were at odds again. Much to the squire's dismay, Jane, at sixteen, was well on her way to becoming bookish. In a few years, she would likely be a thorough bluestocking. And the squire heartily disapproved of any lady's interest in subjects other than those of hearth and home.

*

Hart had been pleased over his placement beside Lady Althea, the better to ensure that she did penance for her share in this farce. Upon reflection, it was rather amusing that he'd made such an outrageous offer to a chaste and virtuous nobleman's daughter, even if her kiss remained etched within his memory.

Tonight she had dressed demurely in a rose-colored silk gown, with creamy ribbons accenting her coppery hair and tied just above her trim waist. A matching parure of semiprecious stones encircled her wrist and neck. All in all, she was the perfect image of a marriage-mart miss. Definitely not the type of woman with whom he wished to become entangled. So why did the blood pound in his veins whenever she was near?

However could he have believed her a lightskirt? The idea was so foolish as to make him doubt his sanity. However, the earl's earlier comments about his daughter had led Hart to believe her a very young girl. He'd never considered the possibility that Thea and Steyne's little dumpling, Lady Althea, could be one and the same. Lady Althea was no schoolroom miss.

His eyes narrowed as a new thought occurred to him. Had she thought to trap him in a compromising situation? Far sharper ladies than she had tried and failed. This little minx could be trouble. He dismissed the niggling thought that the only trouble thus far had been created by his own fantasy.

Accordingly, he was most attentive to her throughout dinner, making certain she was offered the choicest meats and fruit. She'd not responded to much before the announcement by Squire Fossbinder of the betrothal of his son to Miss Rawlings.