My Lady Mischief (8 page)

"Oh, Papa. I shall miss you dreadfully. Are you certain that you cannot accompany me?"

"No, m'dear. Ever since Caroline..." The old earl's voice trailed off.

Thea bowed her head. She remembered too well how devastated her father had been after the death of her mother. Her parents had left that morning, in high spirits over their planned trip to London. Their carriage had overturned, killing her mother immediately and leaving her father desolate.

"I am not at all sure that sending you to your aunt's is the right thing to do, Thea. Mayhap you would be better off remaining with me, here at Steyne Hall."

"No, Papa. You were correct." She had reconciled herself to the unwanted journey by thoughts of helping her father rid himself of his obsessive fear of travel. Now, Lord Hartingfield would be escorting her. But she retained hopes of luring her father to London, just the same. A wind came up, bellowing her skirts, and for added warmth she pulled at the lapels of her traveling pelisse.

"A London Season is exactly what I need." So saying, she gripped him in a frantic embrace. 'Take care of yourself, Papa, and remember, I expect you to come in time for my ball."

If she could get him to London, this once, then perhaps he'd have a chance to heal the nine-year-old wound. Since her mother's death, he'd refused to leave the boundaries of Steyne. This could not be considered healthy for such a previously vibrant man.

Hartingfield stepped forward, blocking her view of the only life she knew, and handed her into the carriage. Emma and her nurse, Mrs. Wiggins, were already settled within.

He faced the earl. "Don't worry, sir. I shall take excellent care of your daughter."

"I know you will." Steyne darted a nervous glance at the coach. "Don't allow the coachman to spring those high-blooded wheelers of yours." His voice turned to a growl. "Remember, if anything happens to my Thea, I'll have your skin."

Steyne schooled the emotion from his face as he turned back to Thea, who leaned through the open carriage window.

"Althea, before your departure, I am hoping you can enlighten me pertaining to a small mystery." He grinned. "There is a blue ribbon collar adorning one of my prize piglets this morning. Can you explain it?"

*

The traveling carriage was emblazoned with his father's coat of arms. Although the marquess' servants were adorned with the brightly colored blue and silver livery belonging to the Cavendar family, at least he didn't have outriders carrying his banners, as his father's consequence insisted that he use. Hart generally preferred a faster, although less luxurious, method of travel, yet had bowed to the duke's decision that the ancient equipage was called for on this visit to the earl. Thankfully, the coach was roomy and comfortable.

Hart could not sleep and, as expected, the scenery failed to hold his interest. Seeking some diversion, he studied his traveling companions.

Thea was curled up quite like a kitten on the seat opposite him, sound asleep. She wore a pelisse of kings blue, trimmed with narrow fur edges, opened to reveal a yellow muslin traveling gown. Her yellow straw poke bonnet framed her face with several coquettish blue feathers peeking at him, reminding him of the peacock plumes of a few nights earlier.

Miss Rawlings sat beside her to his left, quietly looking out at the scenery. Mrs. Wiggins sat next to him. Since entering the carriage, she'd never said one word. A tedious journey indeed.

He turned his attention back to Thea. Looking at her sweet smile, he recalled the softness of her lips upon meeting his touch. His stomach clenched.

He'd convinced himself that his behavior had been prompted by the lack of sleep. It now appeared, though, that her mere presence affected his wits in some manner. Having seen her in rapt conversation with Miss Rawlings, he'd come to the conclusion that she was young—far too young for him. Who would ever believe he could be totally spellbound by a young miss barely out of the schoolroom? It was simply that he'd been alone for too long.

Once they reached London, he'd soon resolve the matter. Honor dictated that he marry her and marry her he would.

Was he not the most logical of men? Was he not the most dispassionate? Numerous wagers had been entered into the book at White's over when he'd finally lose his head, but never had anyone been so disguised as to suggest a woman as his nemesis. They'd all assumed, as had he, that no woman could ever have such power over him.

And that was correct. Thea had no more influence with him than a servant would. Yes, he'd carry out his agreement to court her. It was his choice to behave honorably. It wasn't because he couldn't do otherwise. He quickly dismissed the thought that anything other than honor was on the line.

It was merely that she'd make a suitable marchioness. Nothing more. Nothing less. The way she crinkled her nose at him had nothing to do with it. The endearing way she'd practically ordered him from Steyne's study had nothing to do with it.

He turned his head and looked out the carriage window. No, he merely acted according to the dictates of society.

*

Expecting another day of torture, Hart entered the sitting room at the inn set aside for their meals only to find Thea already seated there. She was alone. Neither Emma nor Mrs. Wiggins was in sight.

Now that he had her alone, perhaps he could convince her that a long and tedious courtship would be unnecessary. "Good morning, Thea," he said as he grasped her hand and gently kissed it.

Thea's eyes widened. "Good morning, Lord Hartingfield."

"Hart."

Why was he looking at her so intently, Thea wondered. He cocked his brow and again she felt herself blush. Then he turned her wrist and brushed his lips against the pulse point, and though for a instant she longed to allow him the familiarity, she promptly pulled her hand from his.

"You do not care for my version of breakfast?"

Half scandalized, she repeated, "Breakfast?"

He leaned over her and took a quick taste of her lips. "Yes. A kiss in the morning is my idea of the proper way to break one's fast."

Thea placed her fingers over her lips and watched warily as Hart grinned at her then took a seat. Tension filled the air. To lighten it, she tilted her head and said, "At times you are a charming young boy, Hart, and what woman can resist such appeal?"

"I hope you will soon come around to my way of thinking. But so far, you have been able to do so."

"So far," she agreed dryly.

Hartingfield grinned wickedly. "Are you issuing a challenge?" He rose from his chair, knelt beside her, then swiftly claimed a kiss.

Thea pulled away as if stung.

"No more breakfast?" he asked.

Thea bent forward to pick up her shawl, then wrapped it about her shoulders. "I don't know you well, Hart, but I well know of your reputation as a rake."

"I feel I know you well already." Hart's eyes twinkled as he added, "But I look forward to becoming better acquainted."

"May I have your word this will not happen again?" She meant no more stolen kisses and he knew it.
           

"The word of a rake, Thea?"

She nodded.

"Very well. You have my word that while we are en route to London, I will not attempt to claim another kiss."

"And afterwards," was her curt rejoinder.

"No." Hart shook his head. "I give you the pledge that I can. After we leave this place, you will have to look after your own interests, for I cannot promise further."

"Well, if you want my company you will need to make the attempt, m'lord."

He turned away to hide his self-disgust that he wasn't able to offer the promise she asked of him. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was nothing more than a rake.

"And, Hart?" Thea asked.

"Hmm?"

"I very much enjoyed breakfast."

She had done it to him again.

*

As the day progressed, only the thought of reaching London the following day kept Thea from leaping from the carriage. Hartingfield winked and blew mock kisses at her in a most annoying manner whenever he thought Emma and Mrs. Wiggins weren't looking. He wasn't always successful at hiding it, though. At one point, Emma had broken into giggles and only a stern look from Thea had silenced her.

That night, Hartingfield arranged for their supper in a private parlor. But this time, she made certain to have both Emma and Mrs. Wiggins beside her when she entered the room.

Hartingfield had been busy. The furniture had obviously been rearranged to provide a cozy dinner table in front of a gently smoldering fire. The only other light was provided by the lone branch of candles decorating the table. When Hart caught her eye and gave her a soulful look, she found herself backing out of the room.

"Good evening, ladies. I took the liberty of ordering dinner." Hart stepped forward to drag her by the arm and led her to a chair. "I hope you will be pleased with what I selected, although I fear our host's cook will not be up to Steyne Hall's standards."

As he seated her, his hand softly grazed her arm in a lover-like gesture. Thea stiffened and pulled away. "Thank you." She heard him chuckle as he circled the table to seat the others.

Both Mrs. Wiggins and Thea's friend, soon to be her former friend if she did not stop encouraging Hart, smiled at him as if enraptured. Thea glared at Emma, who immediately removed all expression from her face. As Miss Mimms had often said, rakes could be most charming. She watched in disdain as Hart charmed both her companions. How could he? And how could they?

After taking a chair beside Thea, Hart reached out to a side table and lifted a bottle.

She watched as he filled their glasses and handed one to each of them. He raised his goblet and took a sip.

"It's a pity." Hartingfield grimaced.

"Has it turned sour?" asked Mrs. Wiggins.

Hart shook his head.

"Is it a poor vintage, Lord Hartingfield?" asked Emma, looking down at her goblet as if it contained dirty water.

Again he shook his head. Then he gazed directly at Thea and said, "It is a pity that no nectar can be as sweet as you."

Mrs. Wiggins gasped and Emma chortled with glee.

Thea couldn't believe he would do this to her. Had he no shame? It was bad enough when they were alone, but for all the world to hear? Underneath the table, she swung out her foot in a mighty kick, then grinned when he hid a cringe of pain. She only regretted that she wore soft slippers rather than a shoe made of sterner material. Steel-tipped might have been a better choice. She'd order some as soon as they reached London. "You seem to forget, my lord, you made me a promise."

"I have no recollection of a promise not to woo you."

"I feel that your vexing behavior is breaking the spirit of your promise."

He wriggled his brows. "That is your just reward for accepting the word of a rake."

"Shall I?" he asked Mrs. Wiggins as he gestured at the dishes of food sitting on the side table. She nodded and he proceeded to load a plate for them. When it came Thea's turn, he filled every available space on it, then offered her the overflowing plate.

She glared at him mulishly, refusing to accept it.

Hart shrugged, then settled the plate in front of her. He filled his own plate. Turning back to her, he wordlessly blew her a kiss before devouring a forkful of chicken.

When Thea still made no move to eat, Hart said, "I will not be the one who goes hungry tonight."

Curse the man, Thea thought, as she gathered up a bite of mutton and chewed on it.

"Marry me, Thea."

This time not only Emma but Mrs. Wiggins as well broke up into laughter.

Thea nearly choked.

*

The next morning, after a sleepless night spent worrying about her behavior, Thea took tea in her room rather than risk coming across Hart alone. When the hour became quite late, she worried because no one had summoned her to the carriage. In hopes of discovering the cause, she opened her door to peep out. Hart stood not five feet away in the hallway. She quickly slammed the door, but not before hearing him call out, "Marry me, Thea!" The scoundrel.

A few moments later, there came a tap at the door. Throwing it open, she was prepared to ring a peal over Hart's head. She felt a momentary disappointment when she found Emma standing there.

"May I come in?"

"Please do."

"I overheard Lord Hartingfield speaking with his groom. It appears there will be a slight delay before our departure."

"Whatever caused the delay, I'm grateful for it. I have something important to ask you, Emma." She took her friend's arm and led her to a settee.

"Have you ever given any thought to immoral women, Emma?" Seeing her companion's lost look, Thea continued, "I mean, to what makes them immoral?"

"I can't say that I have. Why?"

"I have begun to wonder if I am fast."

"Whatever have you been up to?" Emma appeared delightfully shocked.

Thea quickly added, "I don't mean that I have yet done anything I shouldn't." At least she hoped she hadn't. "I merely find myself wanting to."

"With—with Lord Hartingfield?" Emma's voice was thick with disbelief. When Thea blushed and nodded, Emma insisted, "Tell me
all,
at once!"

"There isn't really much to tell. He has kissed me." When Thea heard her friend's giggle, she added, shamefacedly, "Twice."

"No, Thea!" Emma's scandalized voice reduced to a whisper, "How could you?"

"It wasn't so much how I could but rather, how I could not. And that is the crux of the matter." Thea paused, giving emphasis to her words. "Since my heart is not involved, I must be fast."

Emma's experience could be summed up with one terribly chaste kiss, given to her by Charles, upon her acceptance of his proposal. She wasn't sure how to advise her friend but did not wish to reveal her own inexperience. She settled on an understanding look.

"I have decided upon a course of action." Thea slashed the air with her hand. "Upon reaching London, I must quickly look over the eligibles and select a husband right away. Surely it cannot take too long to fall in love. Perhaps with marriage, children and a household to distract me, I may avert my baser instincts." She took a quick look at Emma to see how she had taken her impassioned monologue.