Chapter Seven

Stunned silence at Evadne’s rudeness filled the room, and all eyes turned to Jeremy, to see how he would react. “Sir?” Francis said. “Do you mind?”

“We don’t need to ask his permission.” Evadne tugged at his arm. “Come on, I want to see the spinet.”

Lord Pelham jumped to his feet. “Er, perhaps I could join you. That is,” he went on, as he caught his mother’s eye, “perhaps Lady Catherine and I could accompany you.”

“If you wish,” Evadne said, sounding supremely bored, and turned. With her hand still on Francis’s arm, she all but dragged him away, leaving him little choice but to follow.

Thea’s first impulse was to go to Jeremy, an idea she rejected after taking a look at his face. He was, for once, absolutely still; she didn’t need to touch him to know that his arms would be stiff with anger. Had Evadne no sense of decorum, than to treat him so in front of others? She was young, yes, but youth did not excuse such poor manners. And to choose Francis, of all people, to go with!

Someone snickered, and Jeremy’s head swiveled toward Roger. For a long moment they stared at each other, their gazes cool and measuring. “Can’t say I blame her,” Roger drawled, and something sparked to life in Jeremy’s eyes.

“I daresay she’ll be safe enough,” he said, mildly. “Even if she’d gone with you.”

DeVilliers half-rose, and then sat again. Thea found herself holding her breath. There was something between the two men, though no one seemed quite to know what it was. “Of course.” Roger picked up his cards with a practiced, negligent air. “Unless you’ve reason to mistrust your fiancée.”

Jeremy took a step forward, his hands clenched, and Moira intervened. “Come, sir,” she said, smiling winningly up at him, her eyes very green. “I intend to have you.”

Jeremy looked down at Moira, startled for the moment out of his anger. “I beg your pardon?”

“As a partner, of course. For whist.”

“Oh, of course. For whist.” He gave DeVilliers one last look, and then escorted Moira to a table.

Thank heavens, Thea thought, as play began, with DeVilliers and Lady Chatleigh at her table. There would be no trouble between the two men tonight. Heavens, what a week this would be! It had seemed as if DeVilliers were goading Jeremy for some reason, something that had to do with Evadne. And that was another thing, she thought, discarding a card. Jeremy’s engagement wasn’t yet broken, but she suspected he was not pleased with his fiancée. That served her purpose quite well, though in this case he should know better. Miss Powell and Francis? Really!

“A good-looking young man, your brother,” Roger said, after the game had been going on for a few moments.

“Yes, he takes after our father,” Thea said absently, tossing down a card.

The duke grunted. “Really, Mrs. Jameson, I fear your mind isn’t on the game,” he remonstrated.

“Which is to our advantage, is it not, ma’am?” Roger said, smiling across the table at Lady Chatleigh. “In fact, I believe we take this trick.” He spread his cards on the table, and the duke rumbled again. “Miss Powell seemed quite taken with him.”

Thea turned from saying something to Lady Chatleigh. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I believe Miss Powell is taken with your brother. She was flirting quite a bit with him this evening.”

“Miss Powell flirts with everyone.”

“So she does.” Roger glanced at Jeremy, who appeared amused by something Moira had said. “It could be useful.”

“Sir?” Thea said, looking up.

“It is of no moment, ma’am. Our hand, I believe,” he said, smiling, and laid down his cards.

“Oh, I say! We cannot let them get away with that, Mrs. Jameson,” the duke protested, and all other considerations were forgotten in the competition to win at cards. It was only much later that Thea would remember, and wonder about, DeVilliers’ words.

 

The morning dawned cloudy, and the members of the party held their breath, fearing that rain would again confine them inside. There was a collective sigh of relief, then, when the sun came out at midmorning. The expedition to the nearby ruins would not have to be canceled. The duke was the most delighted of anyone, arranging for transportation and a picnic with childlike glee. The older members of the party would travel sedately in several carriages; everyone else would ride.

The duke set himself the task of finding suitable mounts for everyone. Thus Thea found herself staring, her heart sinking, at a broad-chested, slightly sway-backed mare, whose gentle disposition made her perfectly appropriate for a lady’s mount. The duke meant to be kind, she told herself, letting the groom throw her into the saddle. He probably didn’t realize that she had been riding since before she could walk.

Across the stable yard, Evadne was staring at her mount with the same disapproval. The difference was, hers was evident, in the frown on her forehead and her pout, not assumed for effect this time. She turned away as Lord Ware approached to help her mount. “No,” she said, her voice loud in its petulance, “I won’t ride that nag, I won’t!”

“But, Miss Powell,” Lord Ware remonstrated, “Daisy is perfectly safe and gentle—”

“Daisy! What a name for a horse!” She spun, pointing at a stallion just being led out from the stables, dancing and snorting. “I want that one.”

“But, Miss Powell! That’s my horse!”

“I don’t care! I want it.”

“Is there a problem?” Jeremy crossed the yard, having given the reins of his own horse, a black stallion named Lightning, to a groom.

“Oh, Stanton! They want to make me ride that poky old thing!” she declared, clutching at his arm. Behind her Lord Ware was frowning. “Please tell him to let me ride that one, instead. Please!”

“You know I can’t do that, Evadne,” Jeremy said, patting her hand. “The mare doesn’t look so bad—”

“Ooh!” Evadne stamped her foot. “You ride her, then, and I’ll take yours!”

Thea, a fascinated bystander to this scene, had walked her horse over. Evadne was playing into her hands. Let Jeremy see for himself what his fiancée was really like. “Dear, do you think you can handle him?” she asked, her voice sweet.

“Perfectly,” Evadne said in clipped tones. “Can you handle yours?”

“Better than you can handle yourself,” Thea muttered, wheeling away.

“Miss Powell, if you mind so much,” Lord Ware began.

“Miss Powell will be perfectly happy to ride whatever you choose for her,” Jeremy interrupted.

“Yes, well, I was going to say that we have other horses. They’re not lady’s mounts—”

“Oh, pooh!” Evadne tossed her head. “Who wants a lady’s mount except older people? I’d like to look the others over, sir,” she said, and placed her hand on his arm, walking away without a backward look.

Across the yard Thea, who had stiffened at Evadne’s last comment, turned and rode out into the lane, fuming. She didn’t look up as the sound of hooves clopping next to her announced that she had company.

“So the little one has a temper,” Roger said.

“The little one is a spoiled baby,” Thea answered, between clenched teeth.

“Oh, beyond a doubt. Come, pull up, Mrs. Jameson. It won’t do to outdistance the others.”

“On this horse? Hardly likely,” she said, but she did slow her mount, easing over to the side of the lane to wait for the remainder of the party.

“Why did you not ask for another mount?”

“I thought I was being polite.”

“A lesson for you, ma’am. Sometimes being polite is a mistake. Ah, here she comes now. On a more spirited nag, I see.”

Thea turned, hoping briefly that Evadne was having trouble, but as she neared it was obvious that she knew how to handle her horse, a spirited bay mare. Lord Pelham was to one side of her, Francis to the other.

“I say, Thea, what is that you’re riding?” Francis exclaimed, as he passed by.

“A lady’s mount,” Evadne said, before Thea could answer. “Do try not to fall behind too far, ma’am.”

“Blast!” Thea exclaimed under her breath, and Roger cast her a look of amusement and commiseration.

“I don’t know what Stanton sees in her, when he has you,” he said, and she looked up in surprise.

“Sir?”

“Later, ma’am. If you will excuse me, I would like to speak to our hostess. Stanton is coming, so you should not be alone.”

“Thank you.” Thea looked after him, her brow puckered as she moved out into the lane, keeping to one side so that Jeremy could catch up with her. He gave her a quizzical look, but said nothing until they had been riding for a few moments.

“Did you put her up to that?” he said abruptly.

Thea looked up. “What? Who?”

“That.” Jeremy pointed with his riding crop, and she saw that Evadne was riding quite close to Francis.

“Heavens, no! Why would I?”

“Jealousy.”

“Oh, Jeremy!” Thea laughed, the last of her bad feeling finally dispelled. “I’m not jealous. I admit I was annoyed with her just now, but do you really think I’d use my own brother in such a way?” She smiled, secure that, in this instance, she was innocent. And, she thought, she had been right. Jeremy didn’t like seeing Evadne with other men.

“No.” Jeremy frowned. “Of course you wouldn’t. Forgive me. I didn’t think.”

“Jeremy, is she giving you trouble?”

“Of course not.” Jeremy’s face was expressionless. “I am perfectly content with her.”

“Oh.” Thea rode in silence for a few moments. “She does flirt a lot,” she ventured.

“She’s young. She’ll grow out of it,” he said, with little conviction.

“Perhaps. Anyway, does it matter? You don’t love her.”

Jeremy hunched his shoulders, and his mount took exception to the movement, dancing sideways toward Thea. He took a moment to get the horse under control. “No.”

Thea’s heart contracted with sympathy. It was all very well to wish him to see how unsuitable a bride Evadne was, but Thea hadn’t expected that knowledge to hurt him. Impulsively she reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “At least, Jeremy, we’ll always be friends.”

Jeremy glanced down at her hand. “Yes,” he said, in an odd voice, and raised his eyes to hers. For a moment their gazes locked, and all knowledge of the world around her fell away from Thea. Jeremy, she thought, dazed.

“I say!” a voice came from behind them. “Hurry up, you two! You’re holding everyone up, what?”

Jeremy glanced back. “My apologies, duke,” he said to Rochester, riding close behind. “Come, Thea. Shall we ride?”

The sky brightened as the day went on, and by the time the party reached the ruins the day was quite warm. Thea was glad to dismount, and she looked with interest at the remains of what had once been a considerable fortress, built just after the Norman Conquest. One tower still stood, along with the remains of walls, so that the layout of the castle was still visible. The spot was surprisingly peaceful, with green turf deep and springy underneath, and, over the crest of the rolling land, a glimpse of the distant Avon river, silver in the sun. Servants, sent ahead with hampers of food, were already busy, setting up tables and serving the repast, cold chicken and ham, salad and a strawberry tart, and champagne.

“A simple alfresco meal,” Roger murmured.

Thea looked up, smiling. “Well, sir, you could hardly expect our host to slight us.”

The breeze ruffled Roger’s thick, dark hair, sweeping the curl away from his face, and he reached up to smooth it down. “No, indeed. I believe he is enjoying this party more than any of the guests.” They both turned to look at the duke, whose thin face was beaming with pleasure as he looked down at his wife. “May I sit with you at nuncheon?”

“Why, certainly, sir.” Thea smiled again as she linked her arm through his. She glanced up as Roger seated her, to see Jeremy, sitting some distance away. Evadne, by his side, was talking and laughing at something Lord Ware, on her other side, had said, but Jeremy, to Thea’s surprise, was looking straight at her, frowning. With an effort, Thea turned her gaze away. At least Mr. DeVilliers found her attractive. Thea had no idea why he had chosen her, among all the ladies present, for a flirtation, but she was not complaining. His attention was balm to a soul wounded by Jeremy’s engagement to another woman.

Beside her, Roger congratulated himself on both his good fortune and his foresight. Mrs. Jameson wasn’t the most beautiful woman present, but she was certainly one of the most pleasing. And no one’s fool. With her he dropped his brooding air and took up, instead, a light flirtation that she appeared to enjoy. Stanton, he thought, not for the first time, was a fool. If a man had to marry money, he could do worse than to pick Althea, rather than that young, silly girl. And Roger had to marry for money. He hadn’t thought of courting Althea, but it was a surprisingly pleasant idea. The extra advantage was that Stanton, by the looks of it, didn’t like his being with Althea at all. No, not at all.

Roger had no intention of revealing what was between him and Stanton, nor did he intend to forget it. Originally he had hoped to use Evadne as his means of revenge, but she had made it clear, without words, that she wasn’t the least interested in him. After all, he had neither title nor money, and Evadne was nothing if not shrewd. Althea, on the other hand, was, if more sensible, also, perhaps, more romantic. She would marry only if she chose, and not because of practical considerations. If he could take Althea for his own, revenge would be his, and it would be very sweet, indeed. He was very glad he’d come to this house party.

After nuncheon the party broke up into smaller groups to explore the ruins. The sun continued to hide behind ever-thickening clouds, and a cool breeze had come up, but everyone was loathe to leave. Like children released from the schoolroom, they trod through the castle, their voices echoing through ruined corridors and crumbling stairs. Thea was joined in her explorations by Roger and Lord and Lady Chatleigh; the duke was with his daughter, and, surprisingly, Agatha Powell; Lydia, looking fetching in a rose silk gown with a matching cottage bonnet, was with Lord Peter, the duke’s brother. Jeremy took a long look at the dark shadows stretching upwards in the tower, where several people had gathered, and then turned gallantly to Lady Pelham and her sister, offering to stay with them. Evadne, much to her surprise, found herself standing alone under a gracefully-arched doorway.

She was miffed. Having spent the better part of the day in the admiring company of Lord Pelham and Lord Ware, she found it quite lowering to be expected to explore some dull, dirty ruins by herself. She had just stamped her foot in annoyance and uttered a distinctly unladylike oath when Francis ambled up, his hands thrust into his coat pockets.

“Left alone, Miss Powell?” he enquired, and Evadne, too annoyed to remember to pout, frowned instead.

“Yes! Mr. Pelham is chasing after that insipid Lady Catherine, and I don’t know where Lord Ware is!”

“I see.” Amusement danced in Francis’s eyes. He was not about to admit that he had disposed of both those worthy gentlemen by less than worthy means, having hinted to each that other ladies were interested in them. He had even gone so far as to sacrifice his sister to the cause. “May I suggest you make do with me?”

“I’ll have to, won’t I?” she said, ungraciously, and turned away. “Come on, if we have to explore these boring old ruins, let’s get it over with.”

“Very well.” Francis followed behind her as she plunged inside the crumbling walls, allowing himself a smile at the way her skirts twitched from side to side. “When are you and Stanton to marry?” he asked as he caught up with her.

Evadne tossed her head. “It hasn’t been decided yet. I expect before winter, though.”

“Stanton is not rushing matters, then.”

“He is a gentleman, sir.”

“I’m not sure I’d be.”

Evadne stopped, turning to him. He was not her idea of the ideal gentleman; he was too tall, for one thing, and though his coat could only have come from Weston, it still managed to hang loosely on his lanky figure. Besides, he had no title. However, the admiration of any man was better than nothing. “Why, thir, whatever do you mean?”

“Stop it.” Francis reached out and touched one of her dimples. She drew back, startled by her reaction to the feather-light touch. “Save your flirtatious ways for someone else. You and I don’t need to flirt, Evadne.”

She backed away, her eyes uncertain, and then took refuge in anger. “I did not give you permission to use my name!” she exclaimed, and flounced away.

“You will,” Francis called after her as she nearly ran from the ruins. He emerged onto the lawn where the picnic had been held, and Thea, looking harassed, came up to him.

“Hide me,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.

“Why?”

“Between the duke and his son! Lord Ware has taken the most unexpected liking to me!” Francis let out a laugh. “It isn’t funny, Fran, he has been following me around like a moonling all afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” he said, and she followed his gaze to where Ware was gazing adoringly at a vivacious Evadne. Thea looked from the girl to her brother, and frowned at the suddenly solemn look on his face.

“So Miss Powell has regained her admirers,” she said, lightly. “Foolish of me to expect to be popular when she’s around.”

“Yes, she is popular,” Francis said, in such an odd voice that she sent him another swift look. “But, do you know, Thea, I don’t think she’s ever really gotten what she wants.”

“Oh, Fran! She has everything. She’s the most dreadfully spoiled girl I’ve ever seen.”

Francis shook his head. “No, Thea, you’re out there. Oh, I grant you she has everything, but sometimes, everything isn’t enough.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Francis shook his head again. “Pelham and Ware are talking about visiting a local tavern tonight,” he said, off-handedly, not looking at her. Thea shot him a look. She had nothing against Pelham, except his youth and immaturity, qualities that had led Francis into trouble in town. Pelham could afford to gamble; Francis could not. Everything in her longed to burst out against this proposed expedition, but for once she considered her words first.

“That sounds more interesting than playing cards for penny stakes,” she said, her voice carefully neutral, and it was Francis’s turn to look surprised.

“Perhaps. But it also means I’ll have Miss Powell to myself.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “If you’ll excuse me, oh best of sisters, I’d like to speak to our host,” he said, and walked away, leaving Thea to stare after him, surprised and mystified. Francis had indeed changed his ways, she thought, pleased. She only wished she could claim credit for it.

“Miss Powell claims another victim, I fear,” Roger said, behind her.

Thea turned. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Your brother.”

“Oh, I do hope not!” Thea stared after Francis, who was talking with Lady Catherine, and shook her head. “No, I’m sure you are mistaken, sir.”

“Are you?” Roger’s smile was lazy. “No matter, ma’am, since she is already betrothed.”

“Yes, of course.” Thea glanced up at him, curiously. “Tell me, sir. Why aren’t you one of her admirers?”

“An impertinent question, ma’am.” Roger waved his hand, languidly. “But, as you ask, I’ll say only that I have, shall we say, more sophisticated tastes?”

There may have been a chance of mistaking his words; there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Curiously, it only made her angry. “I’d rather not be caught between you and Stanton, sir.”

Roger’s eyes gleamed. “Perceptive of you. Actually, Althea—”

“Using Christian names so soon?” a voice drawled behind them, and they turned to see Jeremy. Thea started and pulled back, feeling guilty, though she didn’t know why.

“Afternoon, Stanton,” Roger said. “As you can see, Mrs. Jameson and I are conversing.”

“Yes.” Jeremy looked from one to the other, his eyes hard. “I wouldn’t have thought her your style, sir, unless you have other motives.”

“Jeremy!” Thea protested.

“You are insulting, Stanton.”

“Am I?” Jeremy’s eyes remained fixed on his. “Do you wish to do something about it?”

Roger glared at him, and then made a small bow to Thea. “My apologies, ma’am, but I fear I’m not welcome here anymore.”

“But,” Thea protested as he turned and walked away, and then turned on Jeremy. “How dare you chase him away! Who do you think you are?”

Jeremy shifted from one foot to the other. “Have you a tendre for him, Althea?”

“No! But whether I do or not is none of your affair.”

“I would not see you with him, Thea.

“My life is my own, Jeremy,” she cut in, “and I do not appreciate being made to feel like a bone being pulled between two dogs!”

“What I did, I did for your own good.”

His voice was icy, and that made Thea angrier. How dare he presume so much! “I’ll make my own decisions, thank you!”

“Do so then, madam,” he said, even more frostily. “So independent, Thea, and so lonely, holding people at arm’s length all the time.”

“I don’t do that!” she protested again.

“Well, I wish you joy of your choice, madam, though I doubt you’ll have it.”

“Ooh!” Thea stamped her foot in frustration and whirled away, her arms crossed on her chest.

After a moment, Jeremy followed her. He cast an apprehensive eye up at the old stone walls, but, when it became obvious that Thea planned to walk on the outside of the ruined castle, rather than within, his shoulders relaxed. “Thea!” he called, and she turned. “Wait. I’ll walk with you.”

“I don’t know why you’d wish to, if I’m so disagreeable,” she said, but she stopped to wait for him.

“You know that wasn’t what I meant.”

Thea didn’t answer for a moment. “I know,” she said, finally. “But everyone seems to think it strange in me that I live alone. Why cannot I live my life as I choose?”

“God knows,” he muttered. “It doesn’t seem to be the way in our world.”

Thea looked up at him in surprise as they walked along. “You, Jeremy? But I thought you did exactly as you please.”

He shrugged. “If I did—well, a man has to face up to his responsibilities sometime. But that doesn’t mean I’ll forget my friends.” He stopped, looking down at her. “Thea, you don’t intend to marry him, do you?”

“Mr. DeVilliers?” Thea sounded startled. “No, of course not. I don’t intend to marry anyone. But if I did, Jeremy.” Her voice grew stern. “It would be my choice, no one else’s.”

“I understand that, Thea.” He looked up again at the ancient stone walls that brooded beside him. “But please think carefully before you do anything. I don’t wish to see you unhappy.”

“I know Mr. DeVilliers hasn’t the best reputation, but then, Jeremy, neither have you.”

Jeremy winced slightly. “I suppose I deserve that. No, my life hasn’t been blameless, Thea. Lord knows I’ve made my share of mistakes.” He gazed intently down at her. “And there’s one, if I could undo it—”

“Jeremy.” Thea took a step back, unnerved by the way he was looking at her. There was a warmth there she’d never seen before. “Are you saying our friendship is a mistake?”

“Not our friendship, Thea.” There was a wealth of meaning in his tone as he approached her, slowly, one cautious step at a time, as one might approach a frightened bird. “Maybe it was never meant to be just a friendship.”

“Jeremy.” She stepped back again. Why she looked up just then she never afterward knew, but look up, she did, at the high stone wall behind them. What she saw made her freeze. High above, at the top of the wall, a block of stone tottered, teetered, and then fell free, directly above Jeremy’s head.

“Jeremy!” she shrieked, and launched herself at him, throwing him to the ground, as the stone came whistling down.