Chapter Twelve

“Hello, Thea.” Jeremy smiled, his eyes traveling over her leisurely. “That is an interesting outfit.”

Thea flushed, confused by his presence and her memories. “I—to exercise the horses—it’s more practical,” she stammered.

“Of course.” His eyes held amusement and something else, something she didn’t want to identify.

Oh, lord! What was he doing here, when she’d just started to get herself back? Unbidden, the memories of the night they had shared came back, making her cheeks turn pinker, though she rarely blushed. “I—I’ll go change.”

“Don’t bother on my account,” he drawled.

Thea took one look at his face and fled. “I’ll be with you presently,” she said, looking back in time to catch a definite look of appreciation on his face. Oh, lord, she had never been so mortified in her life, she thought, but inside her a tiny spark of warmth glowed. No matter how she fought it, no matter how wrong it might be, she was glad to see Jeremy again, glad that he still cared about her. It could never be, she knew that. She also knew that seeing him like this, in short fragments of time with others present, would eventually destroy her. For now, however, with her new-found awareness of what she felt for him, she would take what she could get.

The warmth died abruptly as she ran into the garden to reach the house. There, strolling along the paths, was Evadne, fussily dressed in a ruffle-trimmed spencer of deep pink over a white muslin dress. With her was her mother, and a small child. Thea stopped dead and turned, but too late. “Mrs. Jameson!” Agatha called. Thea turned, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Of all people for her to see. She wondered if her guilt and joy showed on her face.

“Mrs. Powell.” She forced herself forward, smiling. “What a pleasant surprise. You’ve come from Moulton to visit?”

“Oh, no.” Agatha frowned. “That is a most singular costume, Mrs. Jameson.”

“Work clothes, ma’am.” Thea kept her voice level with an effort. “I was about to go change.”

“But you don’t have to,” Evadne said sweetly, and Thea briefly clenched her fists, at the smirk on the girl’s face. “We’re here on business, you see.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Stanton has promised to buy me a team for my carriage and when I heard he was going to come here to select them, I just had to come along.”

Thea let out her breath. “I see.” Some of the pleasure from her encounter with Jeremy faded. He hadn’t come to see her, then. For one crazy moment she had thought—but that was clearly a dream, only. “Who is that with you?” she asked, looking past Evadne to the child, who hung back, her eyes huge and her thumb stuck resolutely in her mouth.

Evadne waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, that’s Stanton’s daughter. She wanted to come along.”

“And why not?” Thea smiled at the little girl. “Why should adults have all the fun?”

“Make your curtsy to the lady, Gillian,” Agatha said, sharply. A rebellious look crossed the child’s features, to be replaced by one less definable, but more disturbing. The child was terrified, Thea realized, watching her drop a quick, clumsy curtsy.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Vernon,” she said, gravely, holding out her hand. Gillian looked at it a moment, unsure what to do, and then put her small hand into Thea’s, giving her a sweet, shy smile. Her father’s smile, Thea thought. Gillian looked so like Jeremy, Thea’s heart warmed to her instantly.

“Well.” She stepped back. “I must change. Why don’t you come inside? You must be thirsty after your drive.”

“Don’t mind if we do.” They followed her inside, Agatha’s small, sharp eyes darting everywhere. Thea wondered, as Lydia greeted them, if Agatha were doing sums in her head. It was a relief to leave her unwelcome guests and reach the privacy of her room, if only for a little while. She needed some time to recover from the stunning realization that had struck her when she’d seen Jeremy, and which had turned her world upside-down.

A few moments later, attired in a gown of muslin sprigged with tiny blue flowers, with white frills at neck and cuffs, Thea came back downstairs, patting a strand of hair back into place. It was not her ordinary working garb, but somehow she hadn’t wanted to don the more sober, business-like gown she usually wore when meeting with prospective customers. Hanson informed her that the ladies had returned outside, and so she went to the stables. Evadne was standing in the stable yard, smiling up at Francis, and the others were nowhere to be seen. Thea slipped into the stables, breathing in the familiar, comforting scents of leather, fresh hay, and horse. Within it was shadowy and dim, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Then she saw him, and her heart leaped painfully.

Jeremy. He was standing with Keenan, examining the forelegs of a young colt. Thea watched his hands move expertly along the horse’s flanks, and her heart contracted at the sight. No dandy’s hands, soft and white and pampered, but working hands, a man’s hands, hard and square and capable. Capable, too, of gentleness, as they caressed her. No, she mustn’t think of that. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t her.

Jeremy glanced up at that moment. “Fine piece of horseflesh here.”

Thea smiled and came forward. “We think so,” she said, surprised her voice sounded so normal. “Fast, too. If he keeps up, we may enter him at Epsom.”

“Hm.” Jeremy looked at the horse with new respect. “I’d heard good things about these stables but I didn’t realize you’d progressed that far, Thea.”

“Mr. Keenan and I have worked very hard. Miss Powell said you are here to choose a pair of carriage horses?” It was a safe subject. Before, she’d been able to talk to Jeremy about anything. Now she felt stiff, uncomfortable, as if he were a stranger. He wasn’t, though. She knew him too well.

“Yes.” Jeremy sounded stiff, too. Surely he couldn’t be as uneasy as she was? Not when he’d got what he wanted. “I thought I’d ride over to see what you have. Of course, once Evadne knew why, she had to come along.”

Thea forced a smile. “Well, of course! They’re to be her team, are they not? Now, let’s see.” She frowned a bit. “I’m not sure I’ve anything suitable, not if you want a matched pair. I do have two young blacks, but they haven’t been trained for a carriage.”

“She has her heart set on a team of grays.”

“Perhaps you can persuade her otherwise.”

“If I’m lucky,” he muttered.

Thea turned to him, a question in her eyes. He wasn’t looking at her, but instead was rubbing the forehead of a rawboned chestnut in his stall, and Thea’s heart turned over again. He looked so unhappy. No matter what had happened between them; no matter his reaction to it. She loved him. She would wipe that look from his face if she could, wrap her arms around him and cradle his head to her breast, comforting him, loving him. When had she started to love him? It seemed now that she had loved him forever. It didn’t excuse her behavior at Rochester Castle, but it did explain it. She had been blind. It had taken only a brief moment of discovery for her to recognize it, too late. For he was taken, and the best she could hope for was to become his mistress. Never! she thought, revolted. She would not share him with anyone.

“Here’s a beauty,” Jeremy said.

Thea came out of her daze. No matter how she felt, she must not let him see. “Yes, that’s Daffodil,” she said, smiling. “My mount.”

“Sweet tempered, isn’t she?”

“Yes, and a sweet goer. And she’s not for sale. Now, here’s one of the horses you might want to consider.” She stopped in front of a stall holding a handsome, fine-boned black mare, whose eyes rolled at their approach.

“Bit nervy,” Jeremy said. “I’m not sure how she’d be in a team.”

“Perhaps not. She’s a fine jumper, though, and she does respond well to training, but you’re right, she is high-strung. No matter, there’s another over here,” she said, conscious that she was chattering.

“Thea,” Jeremy said, laying his hand on her arm, and she went very still. “I didn’t ride all this way just to look at horses.”

Thea didn’t look at him. “We’ve discussed this, Jeremy.”

“I know.” He pulled away, running a hand distractedly through his hair. “But Moulton seems flat. Empty.”

“Even with Evadne?”

“Not fair, Thea.” He put his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “Thea—”

“Stanton? Oh, there you are.” Evadne was briefly framed in the sun-lit doorway, and Jeremy and Thea both turned. Francis followed in her wake, an odd look on his face, Thea thought. She looked up at him questioningly as he came closer.

“I’ve told Miss Powell I didn’t think we have anything she’d like,” he said. “No grays, I fear.”

“I want grays.” Evadne’s lower lip was thrust out as she stopped in front of Daffodil’s stall.

“No, but I’ve seen one or two that might do, if we can find a match,” Jeremy said. “There’s a nice black over here—”

“I don’t want blacks! Nasty dark things.” She pointed at Daffodil. “I want this one.”

“She’s not for sale,” Thea said quietly.

“Of course she is, this is a commercial establishment, is it not?” Evadne said, looking very like her mother as she glared at Thea. “Stanton, I want this one.”

“I’m sorry, Evadne, but if she’s not for sale,” Jeremy began.

“I want her!” Jeremy frowned, and Evadne quickly lowered her voice, smiling up at him and batting her eyelashes. “Pleath?”

Jeremy looked toward Thea. “It’s out of the question,” Thea said, crisply.

“Please?” Evadne opened her eyes wider. “You can change her mind, Stanton.”

“No, Evadne. You’ll have to do without this time.”

“Ooh!” Evadne stamped her foot. “You’re heartless!” She whirled away, bits of hay swirling about her as she ran.

Francis looked uncertainly from her to the others and then turned. “I’d best go after her,” he said, going out.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and then turned, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m sorry, Thea. She’s a bit spoiled, I’m afraid.” He smiled. “You wouldn’t consider selling?”

“No.” Thea’s tone was decisive. “You’ll have trouble with her, Jeremy.”

“She’ll learn,” he said grimly, turning away.

Thea gnawed at her lower lip. He was unhappy, and would be unhappier yet. She could ease his misery, a treacherous little voice said. She could give him the love he would miss. “I hope so,” she said briskly, dismissing the sweet fantasies as she moved toward the door. “Was there anything else you wished, Jeremy?”

“Hm?” Jeremy glanced up, and his face cleared. “Yes. I’ll have to be thinking about a mount for my daughter. It’s high time she learned to ride.”

“Doesn’t she know how?”

“No. She has an aversion to horses. I can’t imagine where she comes by it. Her mother was a notable rider.”

“But, wasn’t she thrown?”

“Yes, and it was her own fault.” Thea gave him a questioning look. “I had a stallion I allowed no one else to ride. He was nervous and bad-tempered. Truth to tell, I couldn’t always control him. One day when I was home on leave, I had him saddled for me. Daphne mounted him instead, when the groom’s back was turned. She’d always wanted to ride him.” He was silent for a moment. “I had been detained at the house, and by the time I reached the stables, it was over. Apparently the stallion began bucking and rearing as soon as Daphne mounted, and she was thrown to the ground. Her head struck a paving stone. She died a few hours later.”

“Jeremy, I’m sorry,” Thea said, after a few moments, and Jeremy shook himself.

“It’s past. But I want Gillian to ride and to learn her limitations, so she’ll never be tempted to do something so stupid.”

“Of course.” Thea’s smile was sympathetic. “You’ll need something gentle, then. Have you a pony for her?” she asked, as they emerged from the stables into sunlight. Francis and Evadne were standing a little distance away, she with her head bent while Francis talked, and Thea looked curiously at them.

“Yes, she has one. Never took to it, though.”

“Hm? Oh, your daughter. Well, not everyone likes horses, Jeremy.”

He frowned again. “I won’t pamper her on this. If she can do nothing else, she must learn to ride. Gillian!” he called. “Now, where the devil is she?”

“Here, Daddy!” Gillian ran around the corner of the stables and skidded to a stop.

“Where were you?”

“In the kitchen, Daddy.”

“Did Cook give you some of her macaroons?” Thea said, smiling.

Gillian smiled shyly in return. “Yes.”

“We’ve been discussing choosing a horse for you,” Jeremy said, and the child’s smile faded, to be replaced by a wary look that startled Thea. “What do you think?”

“Do I have to?”

Jeremy frowned. “Yes. I saw one you might like when you’re older.”

“No!” Gillian broke free of Jeremy’s grasp as he started toward the stables. “Don’t make me go in there, Daddy!”

“Gillian! That is enough! Now we’ve talked about this,” he said, his tone moderating. “Remember I told you there’s nothing to fear about horses?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Jeremy, must it be today,” Thea began, and he gestured her to silence.

“You said you’d be a big girl. Now, come. We’ll go inside.”

“I won’t!” Gillian pulled back, her mouth set, reminding Thea of Evadne at her worst.

“Gillian—”

“I won’t and you can’t make me!” she cried, and turned, running.

“Gillian!” Jeremy started after her, and then stopped, at the touch of Thea’s hand on his arm.

“Let her go, Jeremy. She’ll come to no harm,” she said.

“She has got to get over this,” Jeremy said through clenched teeth.

“Jeremy, she’s a child. A little girl. Weren’t you ever afraid of things, when you were little?” She looked up at his set jaw, seeing a stranger. “She’s terrified.”

“Yes, well, she’ll have to learn not to be.”

“Was that Gillian I saw running just now?” Agatha said, coming up to them.

“Yes.”

“The child wants manners, Stanton. She needs a mother.”

“Oh, honestly!” Thea exclaimed, and strode away, conscious that the others were staring at her in surprise. She would have expected such an attitude from Mrs. Powell, but to find it in Jeremy shocked, and enraged, her. Poor little girl, she thought, fuming. An uncaring father, and a selfish, spoiled stepmother. How people could treat a child like that, when there were so many others who wanted children and would cherish them...

Thea stopped that train of thought, a lump in her throat. It did no good to think about that, her longing for a child. She’d do what she could, instead, to help Gillian.

She wasn’t quite certain where Gillian had gone, but she went in the same direction, knowing where she would go if she were a frightened little girl. In the garden, against one of the old brick walls, was a trellis so overgrown with roses that it had created a bower of sorts. It was there that she found Gillian, huddled and shivering, and her heart went out to her. “Gillian?” she said softly, crouching down, and Gillian raised a tear-stained face to her.

“I don’t want to look at horses,” she said, and Thea thought that she sounded more mature than Evadne sometimes did.

“You don’t have to,” Thea said, sitting down with her back to the wall. “May I sit?”

Gillian stared. “You’ll get your gown all dirty.”

“It will wash.”

“Miss Powell thought you looked funny wearing breeches.” She sighed. “I wish I could dress like that all the time.”

“So do I.” Thea leaned back against the wall, her arms wrapped around her legs. “I’ve always thought this would be a good secret place. Do you have a secret place, Gillian?”

“Yes,” Gillian said, looking down and plucking at her skirt, “but I don’t want to tell you about it.”

“Of course not, because then it wouldn’t be secret. I remember, when I was about your age, I used to sit under an enormous azalea in our garden. I’d bring my dolls out and have wonderful tea parties with them. And sometimes my stuffed pony, and I would pretend I was riding, just like Mama.”

Gillian’s face went white. “No! No horses.”

Odd. This was more than mere dislike. “Gillian?” she said, and Gillian raised her head. “I’ve something to show you that’s lot better than horses. Will you come with me?”

Gillian looked at Thea’s outstretched hand with suspicion. “Will I have to go back in the stables?”

“Well, yes, but we can go in by the side door and you needn’t see any horses. I promise.”

Gillian gazed a moment longer at Thea’s hand and then scrambled to her feet. “All right,” she said, and placed her hand in Thea’s.

Thea was surprised to feel a lump in her throat at the trust implied in that gesture. “Very well. We’ll go this way,” she said, and led the way through the stable yard to another door, at the end of the stables. There was no one in sight, and so Gillian didn’t hesitate, until they were inside and the sound of a horse whinnying made her freeze, whimpering a little bit. Thea laid her hand briefly on her head. “It’s all right, Gillian. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

Gillian looked up. “I don’t like horses.”

“I know. But I think you’ll like this. Look.”

“Kittens!” Gillian dropped to her knees in the straw lining the empty stall and reached out to touch a tiny ball of fur. “May I touch them?”

“No, they’re too little yet, their eyes haven’t even opened. See? Mother cat isn’t too happy we’re here.”

“She looks mad.” Gillian tentatively held out her hand to the cat, who sniffed, and then turned away, apparently deciding her brood wasn’t threatened. “I wish I could have a kitten, but Daddy says no. And Miss Powell has one.”

“A kitten?” Thea said in surprise.

“No, a big, ugly cat. He scratched me. See?” She held out her hand, and Thea made the proper commiserative noises about the tiny scratch.

“Do you like Miss Powell?” she asked, carefully.

Gillian shrugged. “She’ll do, I suppose.”

“I see.” Thea knelt back on her heels, her hands on her thighs. She did see, a great deal. Beneath Gillian’s apparent acceptance of her father’s fiancée lay a world of resentment, she thought. Dear Lord, she thought. What is Jeremy doing to this child?

“Thea?” a voice called from the other end of the corridor, and Thea rose, turning.

“Yes, Jeremy,” she said. “We’re here.”

“I can’t find Gillian—oh.” He stopped as Gillian scrambled to her feet, her face shining.

“Daddy, kittens! May I have one?”

“I’m afraid not, poppet.” He laid his hand briefly on her head. “They’re not old enough.”

“But when they are? Daddy, please?”

“No, Gillian. You know cats make me sneeze.”

“But Miss Powell has one.”

“Miss Powell is a guest.”

“Daddy—”

“No, Gillian. That’s enough.” Gillian subsided, her lower lip thrust out much like Evadne’s, and he turned to see Thea regarding him oddly. “We’d best be leaving. We have a long ride ahead.”

“I’d like to speak with you, Jeremy,” Thea said.

“Yes, well?”

“Not here. Gillian, I’m afraid we’d best leave mother cat alone.”

Gillian took Thea’s hand, swinging back and forth on it. “May I come back?”

“If your father agrees.” Thea looked down at her, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. “Come, kitten. Let’s go back out and let the kittens sleep.”

“All right.” Gillian skipped beside her, now that the threat of horses was past, chattering about Moulton. Jeremy followed, absurdly hurt at her defection.

Evadne came up to them as they emerged into the sunshine, Francis behind her. Gillian’s step slowed, and she backed away from them, going to stand with her father. Again Thea’s anger rose, at the thought of that child with this foolish, selfish girl as her stepmother. “Mrs. Jameson?” Evadne said, her voice breathless. “I’d just like to say—”

“Go on,” Francis prodded gently, smiling at her, when she paused.

“I’d just like to say I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “For the way I acted, I mean. It was wrong of me, I know.”

“No harm done,” Thea said, startled not so much by Evadne’s words as by the sincerity in her eyes. She glanced past Evadne to Francis, and then looked again, closer this time. Heavens! “I hope you’re able to find a team you like.”

“Oh, yes.” Evadne turned to Francis, her face anxious, and smiled when she saw him nod in approval. Thea glanced over at Jeremy, who was watching the others with his brows slightly raised.

“Well,” he said. “If we’re to make Moulton by dinner we’d best be going.”

“I’ll have your team brought ‘round,” Thea murmured, turning.

“I’ll come with you. I’m a bit concerned about the off-leader’s hindquarter.”

“You should have said something,” Thea said, keeping up the fiction of polite conversation as they walked together back into the stable. “Mr. Keenan is a genius with horses.”

“I did.” He paused by the stall where the horse had been placed. “What did you think of that?”

“Hm? What?”

“Your brother made Evadne apologize. Amazing.” He shook his head. “And what is more, she meant it!”

Thea took a deep breath. This time she was not going to rein herself in. “Jeremy, I swore I wouldn’t meddle, but—”

“You’re going to.”

“Someone has to! Can’t you see what a mistake you’re making?”

“It’s a mistake you could help me prevent, Thea.”

“Ooh!” Thea pulled back from his outstretched hand. “I never though you could be so selfish! You’ll escape to London when you can, but what of Gillian?”

“We’ll leave Gillian out of it, thank you. And speaking of Gillian, why did you encourage her dislike of horses?”

“Jeremy, the child is terrified! Can’t you see that?”

“She’ll have to grow out of it.”

“She won’t. It goes so much deeper than you think. But then, you’re never with her enough to realize things like that, are you?”

“What do you know about it?” he retorted, stung. “I’m a damn sight better parent than my own father was. He never realized any of us were alive.”

“But do you know anything else about her, Jeremy? Do you know why she fears horses, or that she doesn’t like Evadne—”

“We won’t discuss this,” he said, biting off the words.

“Oh, yes, we will, because if you marry Evadne, you’ll have an unhappy little girl. And I seem to remember your telling me once about how your mother neglected you.”

“I don’t neglect Gillian! She has a governess, and there are servants—”

“But not you.”

“Damn it, I can’t be there all the time. I make sure she’s cared for.”

“Oh, certainly! By servants. She’ll grow up just like you, selfish and lonely and not knowing why. And who will take care of Evadne? Oh, I know why you’re marrying her. A child bride you can ignore, just like your own child.”

Jeremy went very still. “I will pretend you didn’t say that,” he said, his voice very quiet and very cold. Without another word he turned and strode away. Thea stared after him for a moment and then whirled, fleeing out the side door toward the house. If she had to face any more of them, Evadne or Mrs. Powell or Jeremy, she would scream.

She was in the parlor, pacing angrily back and forth, when the sound of hoofbeats announced that her guests were leaving. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. Instead, she picked up a crewel pillow and flung it across the room.

Francis chose that moment to come in. “I thought that went well—hey!” he exclaimed, as the pillow caught him on the chest. “What did I do?”

And Thea sank down upon the sofa and promptly burst into tears.

 

Three days he had been waiting for the wind to change, allowing the Dover packets to cross to France, and Roger was getting restless. Three days of imagining that his creditors would catch up with him and call him to account for all his debts, though he hoped they would have a hard time finding him. He was staying in a humble inn just outside of Dover, rather than the more well-known Ship Inn in the town itself. It went against everything he had been brought up to, to abandon his estate and flee to the Continent, but he had little choice. His debts were too high ever for him to pay. He would have to go, if only he could take ship on time.

He rode, this afternoon, aimlessly down some of the lanes near the inn, brooding on his damnable luck. He had hoped, this season, to mend his fortunes by marrying an heiress, but all the matchmaking mamas were too well aware of his reputation to allow of that happening. He had even thought, for a little time there at Rochester Castle, that he might have the heady experience of taking another girl away from Stanton, this time permanently, but that hadn’t occurred. Miss Powell had apparently preferred Stanton’s title to his own brooding, mysterious features. In her place, he would probably have done the same thing.

The scent of the sea, mixed with those of freshly-mown grass and wild roses, came to him as he reached the top of the hill. Below him and to his right he could just see the roof and chimneys of a great house. Perhaps the home belonged to someone he knew and he could visit, to pass the long hours, he thought, walking his mount toward the iron gates, standing open. But the name on the plaque set into the pillar, Moulton Hall, meant nothing to him. Not at first. Then a memory came to him, of Stanton telling the Duke of Rochester that he would be returning to Moulton with Miss Powell.

Stanton’s home! The horse danced beneath Roger as a surge of energy went through him. Of all the luck! Perhaps, he mused as he rode away, a devilish smile upon his face, matters weren’t so bleak as they seemed. For if Stanton were still there with his fiancée, then perhaps he would have another chance. Roger let out a laugh. Damn, but he would have his heiress, after all!