My Lady Mischief (6 page)

From that moment, Lady Althea's behavior had changed. She'd ignored him before, now she devoted lavish attention on him. Was she attempting to make Mr. Fossbinder jealous? There was some history here and he resolved to learn all he could of the matter.

Until the opportunity presented itself, he relaxed and leaned back to enjoy her attentions.

She was a cunning minx, flirting outrageously with him like the most experienced of London coquettes while peeping at Mr. Fossbinder to check his reaction. In return, that gentleman directed scowls at each of them. Hart bit back a laugh. What a marvelous triangle it was. Yes, he'd have to learn more.

After dinner, Miss Mimms signaled it was time for the ladies to leave the table.

During the interval over port, Mr. Fossbinder continued to glare at him. Blessedly soon, Steyne suggested joining the ladies in the music room and Hart willingly complied.

The music room was large enough to comfortably hold far more than their number. At the head of the room sat a spinet with chairs scattered nearby. Steyne prevailed upon Miss Mimms to play.

Squire Fossbinder called out, in an overly jovial voice, "Too bad Lady Althea cannot carry a tune, Steyne. I'm certain that my future daughter will happily remedy the situation. Emma, won't you honor us with a song or two?"

Miss Rawlings colored then directed a timorous glance at Lady Althea, who waved her on. She made her way to the spinet and Hart's heart sank. Could a night ever be more dull? Some milk-and-water miss caroling them with songs he'd rather forget?

He had to admit, though, that Miss Mimms was a talented pianist and she played simple country airs that Miss Rawlings could easily sing. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Lady Althea placing a hand to her forehead. He grinned. Perhaps she was a bit cast away. He watched as she slipped through the curtains which hid glass-paned doors opening out on the grounds.

After quickly pouring two cups of tea, he turned to join her. Just ahead, he spied Mr. Fossbinder exit as well. More and more interesting. As unobtrusively as possible, he made for the game room, which had a door leading out onto the same terrace. Balancing the teacups, he quietly slipped outside.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust as clouds hindered the moonlight. He heard Mr. Fossbinder say, "I know you will wish me happy, Thea."

Hart found himself scowling when Fossbinder took her hands. His scowl became more intense at Lady Althea's reply. "But will you be happy with this? With Emma?"

"I know you wish it could be otherwise," answered Fossbinder with what Hart considered a melodramatic air. "But, Thea, it cannot be. It never was my intention to hurt you, for in hurting you, I've irrevocably hurt myself."

When the gentleman dropped her hand to tick points off on his fingers, Hart could see Thea's shocked expression. "Emma is a most suitable girl. She is sweet and compliant. Our match is all I could wish for. Her portion coupled with my own will set us up in comfort, though not luxury. She will be a good and useful farmer's wife. I am fortunate she will have me."

Hart grinned. She'd expected lovemaking and instead was getting a lesson. Whatever could she see in such a dolt?

Thea grabbed the dolt's arms and shook them. "Oh, Charles, I'm so unhappy. Papa said I would be a dreadful farmer's wife but there is nothing I wish more to be. I've always believed we had an understanding."

"I hope you can forgive me, Thea. I never meant to lead you on. My heart lies heavy in my bosom over my actions this day. My decision was forced upon me and I hope that someday you'll find it in your too-generous heart to forgive me. It is not within my power to support you in the proper manner, in the comfort and consequence you now enjoy. Therefore, I cannot ask that you be my wife."

"Comfort, luxury, consequence!" Thea stormed. "I've heard enough of those words from you and Papa. Can't you see that I have such regard for you?" She threw her arms about his neck and it was all Hart could do to keep himself from separating them. He was surprised by his reaction but Fossbinder had no business being out here with Lady Althea, not since his betrothal had been announced just this evening.

Fossbinder stepped out of her embrace, saving his hide, for Hart would have happily injured him otherwise.

"Wish me happy. And accept my sincerest apologies, Thea. Though it breaks my heart, we must behave with honor," commanded Fossbinder. Hart clenched his fists.

"I wish you happy, Charles," Thea whispered. "You and Emma."

As the object of Thea's affection silently slipped through the large glass doors back into the house, Hart saw a single tear waver at the corner of her eye. Perhaps he
would
damage the bounder after all.

He stepped forward to join her, wanting to offer sympathy. The clouds lifted and clear moonlight illuminated her features.

She dabbed at her eyes. "Have I to add eavesdropping to the list of misdeeds of the dastardly marquess?"

"It's possible. However, the list is quite extensive already." He intently examined her face. "Is that what you call me? The dastardly marquess?"

Thea's only answer was a shrug and a languorous smile.

"Why am I not surprised?" Hart asked and shook his head. "I thought you might be needing some tea." He indicated the cups in his hands, then gave her one and watched with raised brows as she drained the glass. "Do you mind my company, Thea?"

The beverage seemed to lift her mood somewhat, but she appeared either unable or disinclined to speak. Hart emptied his own cup then took hers and placed it upon a stone balustrade.

The spinet's soft refrains could be heard but Miss Rawlings was no longer singing. The night was balmy and a gentle wind nipped at the hem of Lady Althea's gown. Stars twinkled mysteriously and the beautiful three-quarter moon shone down upon them. The chirp of crickets accentuated the melodies of Miss Mimms' waltz. Thea swayed softly to the music.

Taking this as a cue, Hart took her hand in his and settled his other hand against her back. She shivered at his touch but allowed him to draw her into the dance.

Thea's skin glowed with a pearl-like hue. Hart felt his mouth go dry. He dampened his lips and swallowed. Her hand was petal-soft against his own. A desire to kiss her seized him.

He stopped dancing and pulled her a step closer, completely into his arms. Framing her face with his hands, he used his thumbs to tilt her chin upwards. He slowly lowered his lips to meet hers. "Now, Thea, my reward."

He was astounded. When he'd seen Thea in Fossbinder's arms, he'd felt angry and disillusioned. Yet now, he felt possessive of her, as if she was his responsibility to look after. The fact was, she confused him. His plan called for teaching her that teasing a gentleman the way she had him could ricochet. And now he was the one suffering from the backlash. What was she doing to him?

Was Steyne Hall enchanted, disordering the wits of all who resided within? How could he feel so possessive of a girl he hardly knew? And how could he desire an innocent the way he did her?

Now he was holding her within his arms. It broke all the rules of propriety but somehow it didn't feel wrong. Her response told him Thea was an innocent, a child in a woman's body. That odd mixture of purity and passion gave his desire an additional edge, a need to protect her. She was sweet, so sweet.

Hart broke the kiss, not because he wanted to but because honor required it.

"You're not stopping, my lord?" Thea slowly opened her eyes and he noticed her pupils were widely dilated and her lips swollen.

"Oh, Thea." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Do you really wish for more?"

Wicked green eyes glinted at him and then retreated behind closed lids. "Yes, please, my lord," she replied and raised her face to him.

"Do you not feel that it is time to drop the 'my lord's'?"

"Then shall I call you by your full title,
my lord?"
Thea's lashes flew open and she pressed her mouth to his.

"You cat," he whispered with a gurgle. "You will call me Hart."

"Yes, Hart." She sighed his name and he could withstand no more. She'd done it to him again. Groaning, he caught her lips to his. It took all of his willpower to gentle the kiss and pull away.

She murmured, "The music has stopped."

"Um, yes." Hart stood looking into her eyes, then shook his head from side to side. "No, I hear it yet." He kissed her once more, then hoping to reach safety, he hurried her back into the music room.

It was empty.

Chapter Five

"Thea." That settled it. The empty room spoke volumes. The guests had all departed and she was well and truly compromised. Hart tugged her back into his arms.

Being in his arms was comforting but Thea knew she'd have to say it. Aware her plan had misfired, she could sense he was about to speak of marriage and she would not marry him, a man who did not love her. "You must not speak to Papa."

Through gritted teeth he asked, "Thea, why must I not speak with your father?"

"I—I enjoyed our kiss, but..."

"But?" He prompted her.

"It was just a kiss."

"Just a kiss? It was not just a kiss. In fact, I must state emphatically,
it was not just a kiss."
Hartingfield's face took on a mulish expression. "In any case, if I deem it appropriate to speak with your father, then I will do so."

"You are making this quite difficult, Hart." Thea stepped out of his embrace. Her plan had gone completely awry. "I must be honest with you. I hoped to give you a distaste for me. I was being wanton."

"No, you weren't."

"I mean, I was attempting to be wanton."

He gave her a distracted look. "You were being...wanton?"

"Yes." Thea stood her ground.

Lord Hartingfield looked deeply into her eyes. His face hardened. "To trap me into marriage," he finally replied.

"To make you wish
not
to marry me."

Completely stunned, Hart felt his mouth drop. Considering the legions of young ladies and their mamas who had tried to ensnare him, it never occurred to him that any woman, Thea included, would desire otherwise. Insensibly, it struck him that her kisses, those glorious kisses might have been an act?

It took all of his considerable self-control to keep his hands from encircling Thea's swanlike neck and squeezing. He reached for her to jolt her into sensibility. Instead, the intended shake metamorphosed into another gentle kiss. "It wasn't totally an act, was it, Thea?"

"No," she gasped.

"There is magic between us. Would it be so unbearable to marry me? You must feel the magic, the rightness as well as I," he coaxed. Then he froze. He could not believe those words had left his mouth. What was he saying? It occurred to him that while he'd had no intention of marrying her, it was of utmost importance to him that Thea desire it.

Yet, it would be dishonorable of him not to marry a young innocent whom he had compromised. "Thea, our actions this night will necessitate marriage."

"My regard belongs to another." She pulled away.

Hart's grip tightened. "Who, that dunderhead farmer?"

"Charles is not a dunderhead! He's wonderful."

"He's so wonderful that he appears to prefer the charms of Miss Rawlings, Thea."

In a sharp gasp, Thea caught her breath. "No, it is merely that he feels the difference in our stations so keenly."

"I, at least, have one thing to thank him for," he intoned as brushed a curl from her eyes.

"What is that?"

"He taught you well."

"Oh!" She flung his hands away.

"You do not deny it, I see," he said caustically.

Thea cried out, "You are impossible, my lord. Charles would never have kissed me in this manner. In fact, he has never kissed me at all." Her gown had been crumpled by his embrace and she extended a hand to smooth it. "Unlike you, Charles is a gentleman."

"Do not try to flummox me."

"It was my second kiss ever. Yesterday you stole the first." Hart heard the distress in her voice as she fought back tears. "You are c-c-cruel, my lord. Miss Mimms told me I would always remember my first kiss and now, n-n-now I will always remember this!" She turned and fled the music room.

Hart placed a hand to his forehead. What had he done? Why did the girl always make him lose control? Was his own self-importance of such magnitude that a young woman's pride and innocence must be sacrificed? He stared at the doorway through which she had departed then took a seat at the spinet and idly began to pick out the melody of their waltz.

He would speak with Steyne in the morning and hope to atone for his actions by offering for her. As much as he hated the thought of descending into the parson's mousetrap, no other option was open to him. Besides, there would be obvious benefits to marrying her.

The music of the waltz became more pronounced as he played in earnest.

He refused to believe that she loved that—that bag of stuffed feathers called Fossbinder. And Steyne would be delighted to have nabbed such a matrimonial prize for his daughter. Frustrated by these thoughts, his hands came down in a crash upon the ivory keys.

As he entered the hall to make his way upstairs, he heard a noise. He froze and listened intently.

"Pssst."

*

Lord Steyne peered from his study in hopes of catching Hartingfield. He did not wish to alert the household, most particularly his daughter, to the dialogue he hoped would soon take place between him and the marquess. Just then, he saw the gentleman exit the music room and head toward the stairway. "Pssst."

Hart stopped and rubbed his ear.

"Pssst," Steyne uttered a little more loudly. Hartingfield craned his neck and examined the dimly lit hall. Then his eyes met Steyne's.

He opened his mouth to speak but Steyne shushed him, whispering, "Quiet. She's just gone to the kitchens." Steyne then motioned him to enter the study.

Once Hartingfield crossed the doorway, Steyne firmly closed the door. "Have you compromised her?" he asked in an intentionally conversational tone, on his way to the chair behind his desk.

Hart found a seat in front of the massive desk, but did not meet the earl's gaze. How long had he remained in the empty and darkened music room? Still, he hadn't truly resolved anything. He had hoped to have a night to think matters over before speaking with the earl. "Yes. I lost my head. If it is any consolation, I intended to speak with you in the morning to request an immediate announcement of our betrothal."