Thea's Marquis (11 page)

Thea’s glance flew round the hall: the Turkey carpet, the cherrywood half-moon table, brocade-covered side chairs, gilt-framed mirror. She remembered the stark bareness that had met their arrival in Russell Square.
Not a shilling?
she almost asked aloud. “You need money?”

“I’ve got a good scheme on the cards.” He was whining now. “All I need’s a spot of the ready to invest. And her aunt’s ill again. Doctors and medicines cost a mint.”

“I am sorry, sir, but Penny does not handle her own finances.” She tried to speak firmly. “You must consult my brother, and the lawyers.”

“Bloody lawyers, is it?” he shouted. “And your bloody brother? I’ll see ’em in Hell first. She’ll shell out if I have to shake every penny out of her. And I don’t take kindly to them as stands in my way.” He advanced on her, his angry face suffused with blood, his fist raised.

Behind him in the doorway a tall figure appeared. In three strides Lord Hazlewood was between Thea and Mr. Vaughn, his back to her. Though of a height with the bully, his shoulders near as broad, he was far less massive.

Thea could not bear it if he were hurt. Hands clasped in a plea, she stepped forward as the two men stared at each other. Dunmow reached for her arm and tugged her back, shaking his head. He was watching them, his face intent but unworried.

Then she saw them as the butler did. The marquis was fit and trim where his adversary was flabby. Relaxed yet wary, Lord Hazlewood’s stance contrasted with Vaughn’s aggressive rigidity.

Penny’s uncle was now livid with fury, whereas Lord Hazlewood’s voice, at least, had lost none of its accustomed calm. “You are not welcome in this house, I think.”

“What’s it to you where I’m welcome?” snarled Vaughn.

“A lady’s wishes must be the natural concern of any gentleman.”

“To the devil with a lady’s wishes! It’s no lady I’ve come to see but my niece, and you’ve got no right to keep me from her.” He rushed forward, fists flailing.

Thea gasped as the marquis stepped suddenly aside, his arms moving too quickly for her to follow. Vaughn staggered backwards, clutching his belly, his eyes dazed. Making an involuntary exit through the open front door, he lost his balance on the step and sat down, hard.

“If you’ll pardon the liberty, my lord,” said Dunmow admiringly, “you’ve a punishing left. I wager your lordship strips to advantage. Spar with the Gentleman, do you?”

“Jackson has honoured me with a few rounds.” Lord Hazlewood’s gaze never left his opponent. He strode forward to the threshold and looked down at him. “You will not come near this house again, nor attempt to speak to any of the ladies residing here.” No longer merely cool, his voice was bitingly cold, with an undertone of controlled violence that suggested he was tempted to follow up his victory with a sound drubbing.

Instead, he stepped back and closed the door with such care that the latch barely clicked. He turned. “My dear girl!”

Thea found herself in his arms and realized she was shaking. She could not stop. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his cravat.

“My dear girl,” he said again, holding her tightly, “I’m sorry. I ought to have seen you out of the way first, though I somehow doubt the rogue would have waited. Still, a fine gentleman I’ve proven myself! No lady should be subjected to such a sight. It’s all over now. He will not trouble you again. It’s all right. It’s all over.”

His gentle strength encompassed her, soothed her. In a daze she clung to him. And then her mother was there, waving smelling salts. Meg chattered, explaining matters to the marquis and admiring Thea’s bravery. They took her into the morning-room, sat her down by the fire opposite Penny, and chafed her icy hands.

Penny huddled in her chair, still stunned. It was to her that Lord Hazlewood took the first glass of wine he poured, when Dunmow brought in the decanters from the dining-room. He wrapped her fingers around the stem of the glass and, when she stared blankly at it, raised it to her lips. Sipping, she gradually recovered a little colour.

Dunmow brought Thea a glass. The Madeira warmed her inside, chasing away the last vestiges of shock.

“Feeling better?” The marquis, seated by Penny, smiled at Thea. “I must once again apologize for exposing you to fisticuffs, Miss Kilmore. Will would have my hide for behaving with such bad ton.”

“You cannot think me so ungrateful as to complain when you have saved Penny from that dreadful man. How can we ever thank you?”

He looked disconcerted. “By not mentioning it again, if you please, and in particular by not revealing to my cousin my lapse from good taste.”

Meg said mischievously, “I shall tell Mr. DeVine you illustrated splendidly his explanation of the difference between a sporting gentleman, who wagers on sports, and a sportsman, who participates.”

“Good gad, don’t tell me you were watching, too!”

“No, alas. Mama would not let me open the door until she was sure it was over.”

The dowager, having slipped from the room unnoticed, now returned with salve and bandages. In her quiet way she insisted on examining the marquis’s hands for bruises and abrasions. Though he let her spread salve on his knuckles, he refused bandages.

“I could not put on gloves over them, ma’am,” he explained. “They would be noticed. The quieter we keep this business, the better for everyone, I believe.” He threw a minatory glance at Meg.

“Surely you trust Mr. DeVine’s discretion,” she teased.

Her mother intervened in one of her infrequent exercises of authority. “You will tell no one, Meg dear. There is no need for Jason to know, since Lord Hazlewood has dealt with the man, and Penny cannot want it known that she has so...so
barbaric
a relative.”

“Mr. Vaughn is no blood relation, Mama,” Thea reminded her. She was worried about Penny’s continuing muteness. “He married Penny’s mama’s sister.”

“So he has no legal claim on Lady Kilmore whatever,” said Lord Hazlewood in relief. “I am glad to hear it. Now, ladies, pray let us put the whole affair behind us. I am come to invite you all to dine in Arlington Street on Wednesday.”

“The Kilmores again!” hissed Lady Hazlewood. Her irritation got the better of her sense of propriety. “Are you enamoured of that woman? She is large enough for you, at all events.”

“Lady Kilmore has an admirably statuesque figure,” Rod agreed mildly, “and I have considerable respect for her, but no, I am in no way enamoured. Even in my salad days I never stole another man’s wife.”

“He would not stand in your way, I daresay. The on-dit is that he has already tired of the vulgar mushroom and spends all his time in the clubs.”

Troubled, Rod was unable to refute the scandalmongers. He himself had seen Jason Kilmore at White’s, Brooks’s, and Boodle’s, engaged in the admittedly innocuous occupation of talking to members. Still, it was none of his affair. “He will accompany the ladies on Wednesday,” he said. He had made sure of that before setting the date.

“Wednesday! In my state of health, how do you expect me to arrange a dinner party at such short notice?”

“If my cook cannot provide a first-rate dinner with four days’ notice, I shall dismiss him. If you are not well enough to produce a list of guests in an hour or so, I shall do so myself—and ask Aunt Anne to be my hostess.”

His provocation succeeded. “You cannot be serious. Anne has no more notion of… I am perfectly capable of making up a list, Hazlewood, but if you wish to invite more than four or five, I fear my hand is too weak to write so many invitations so quickly.”

“I daresay my next speech in the House can wait long enough for Johnson to send out a dozen invitations.” In fact, his secretary almost invariably dealt with the marchioness’s correspondence as well as his own. The poor relation hired to perform that office for her, accused of fretting her nerves to flinders, had been dismissed. No doubt she was much happier in her present post as companion to his eldest sister.

John Johnson was another distant cousin in reduced circumstances. A reserved, scholarly man a few years older than Rod, he was not at all surprised when his employer told him not to send out any invitations without his approval of the list. He took it up to the marquis’s dressing-room shortly before dinner.

Neckcloth in hand, Rod scanned it. “Oh lord, this will never do,” he groaned.

“Need a hand with your cravat?” asked Will, appearing on the doorstep.

“Thank you, no. I prefer to be able to breathe. No, it’s this list Mother has made up for dinner on Wednesday.”

Will took it and perused it with growing indignation. “I’ll be damned if she hasn’t invited all the dullest, starchiest people in Town!”

“And those least likely to entertain the Kilmores later on,” said Rod grimly, winding snow-white muslin about his neck and tying it in a neat, plain knot. “I’ll wear the topaz pin, Pelham.”

“John, have you a pencil?” Will demanded. “Thanks. The Venables and the Fetherstonehaughs can go for a start.” He drew a firm line through their names.

“Yes, substitute the Duke and Duchess of Trent. He is a dolt and she has a malicious tongue, but she did at least speak to Lady Kilmore. Besides, they do entertain, and a duke always adds a certain cachet to an occasion.”

“With luck she will keep my aunt happy, too. We’ll have to do away with Lord Henry, even if he is her brother. He’s a crashing bore. And the Drummond Burrells—far too high in the instep. Lord and Lady Cowper will be much better.” He scribbled busily. “Good gad, the Trevelyans!”

“Mother must have thought including one of my political associates would make me overlook the rest,” said Rod absently as his valet helped him don his coat. “She left Aunt Anne off, did she not? Write her in. Who were those people Miss Megan was talking to?”

“Giddy Turner, his mother and sister, and the Lewins.” The pencil flew.

“That should do it. I don’t want the Kilmores overwhelmed by a crowd.”

Will gave the new list to the secretary, who rapidly read down it. “Too many females, sir,” he said. “You will need another five gentlemen to balance the table.”

“You shall attend, John,” said Rod. “And we had really better put Uncle Henry back. Any friends of yours, Will?”

“Most of ’em are terrified of my aunt. I could probably talk Pretty Pritchard into it.”

“That would be the Honourable Everett Pritchard?” asked Johnson warily.

“Right. He has lodgings at the Albany. Who else?”

“Add Lord Stewart,” Rod instructed. “I met him at Brooks’s the other day. He’s out of mourning for his wife and he’s an obliging fellow. Is that enough?”

“One more, sir.”

“Uncle Reggie,” Will proposed. “They know him. He’ll make up for your Uncle Henry, coz, the one an unmitigated bore, the other guaranteed to liven things up.”

“I’m not sure I want things quite
that
lively, but you’re right, they are acquainted with him.”

“That will be twenty-six altogether, a good number,” said the secretary with satisfaction. “I’ll send the invitations out tonight.”

Twenty-six was considerably more than Rod had intended. He was afraid such a crowd would overawe Thea. But it was she who wanted her sister launched and her sister-in-law accepted in Society.

“Excellent, “he said.

CHAPTER TEN

“Thea, do you think the amber beads are dowdy?” Penny asked anxiously.

“Not at all. They are perfect with that russet silk.”

“And modest enough not to offend? I do not want people to stare at me and think, ‘Ah yes, the heiress.’ ”

“My dear, you are every inch a lady.” Jason came into the dressing-room and dropped a light kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Your gown is stylish, yet not so
dernier cri
as to arouse envy. The colour is perfect for you. You look very well tonight.”

Thea thought she looked beautiful, and wished her brother had said so. Penny took his words differently.

“
I
feel
well, Jason,” she said, with a pleading glance that he did not notice as, at that moment, he turned to the mirror to straighten his neckcloth.

He was still sleeping in his dressing-room every night, Thea knew. In fact, everyone knew it. Her mother considered that he was showing a praiseworthy concern for Penny’s delicate condition, so Thea kept to herself her own opinion that he was only making Penny miserable. But even if she had had more faith in her own perspicacity, she was quite unable to imagine herself telling her brother to sleep with his wife.

That worry faded when they reached the cul-de-sac at the end of Arlington Street and came to a halt behind a line of carriages turning into the Hazlewoods’ courtyard. Meg peered out of the window.

“How splendid! There will be
dozens
of people at dinner,” she said excitedly.

“Oh, no!” Thea was dismayed. “I expected a small party, little more than ourselves and the Hazlewood household.”

Jason laughed. “Hardly! I imagine Hazlewood merely added us to an existing guest list, though he’d have to invite a few extra gentlemen as well. Don’t worry, Thea.” He reached across and patted her hand. “You can lose yourself in the crowd.”

The carriage moved on, then jolted to a sudden stop. “Tha great gowk!” Scargill bawled from the box as some other coachman cut him off in the confusion. Fortunately, his North Country insult went unheeded. A moment later they pulled up before the magnificent portico, brightly lit by modern gas lamps.

George, in his blue-and-maroon livery, jumped down from the back. He rushed to vie with one of the Hazlewood footmen in opening the carriage door, letting down the step, and handing out the ladies.

Thea shivered as she stepped down. It was all very well Jason saying she could lose herself in the crowd, but at dinner she’d have to sit between two gentlemen, who would expect her to converse with them. As host, the marquis would take in the highest-ranking lady guest. As an unmarried lady of no importance, Thea could not expect to sit anywhere near him.

No doubt Will DeVine had arranged to partner Meg, while Jason and Penny, being comparatively newly wed, might well go in together. The best Thea dared hope for was to have either Will or Jason seated beside her. Her partner was sure to be a stranger.