CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

Chocolate brown, with apricot braiding, the severely cut habit was as becoming to Thea as Penny had envisaged it. Lord Stewart actually exclaimed in admiration as Thea descended the stairs. He seemed unable to drag his gaze from the spot where the apricot ostrich plume, curling around the small, neat hat, kissed her cheek.

It tickled, but she managed to restrain herself from twitching. “One must suffer in the cause of beauty,” Meg had told her sternly.

To spare her riding horseback through the busy streets. Lord Stewart had brought his phaeton to drive to Hyde Park. They met his groom there. Thea was charmed by the pretty strawberry roan mare he had provided for her. Confident after her practice sessions with Roderick, she accepted with aplomb the viscount’s help in mounting.

Though the day was fine for mid-November, the Park was far from crowded. At ease on the well-behaved mare, Thea reminisced about long-ago pony rides across the moors, where one had always to be wary of bogs and rabbit holes and sudden mists rolling in from the west. She amused Lord Stewart with vivid descriptions of the agony of taking a toss into a furze bush, and the relief of landing in springy heather.

“Miss Kilmore, how well you understand the pleasures and pains of childhood,” he said fervently when they were once more seated in the phaeton. “I respect you for considering your empathy with youthful sensibilities more important than preserving your dignity as a lady of fashion.”

Thea opened her mouth, then closed it again, unable to think of any suitable response. She ought to have known that talking freely to anyone but Roderick was a mistake. Nothing could be more undignified than falling off a horse into a gorse bush, even if it had happened a dozen years ago. In future. Lord Stewart would always picture her as a sad romp rather than an elegant, decorous lady.

What a shocking waste of her beautiful new habit!

On the other hand, he had indubitably expressed approval, of a sort. The possibility dawned on her that he was seeking not just a sympathetic ear, but a new mother for his children. He was actually considering her, Thea Kilmore, as a bride.

She hardly knew him! She hadn’t yet even sorted out how many children he had. In a quiet panic, she tried to concentrate on what he was saying now, something about the busy streets that required no answer, thank heaven. He was an undemanding, solicitous companion, but...

A street urchin ran up to the phaeton, threw something into her lap, and dashed away, disappearing into an alley. Thea caught the twist of paper as it slid down her skirts.

Lord Stewart frowned. “What is that? The lower classes become more impudent every day.”

Puzzled, Thea smoothed it. There was no superscription. She unfolded the sheet and silently read the impatient scrawl: “Tell my niece I need five thousand guineas and she will be sorry if I dont get it.”

No names, nothing to incriminate the sender, but she knew at once that Mr. Vaughn had penned the demand, and the threat. She shivered.

“Miss Kilmore, what is it?”

“Nothing. A...a childish prank, I daresay.” Wadding the paper into a ball, she unconsciously began to tear it into little pieces with nervous fingers. To tell Lord Stewart would solve nothing. She refused to upset Penny. Jason could do nothing if he knew, since Mr. Vaughn had given no direction, no instructions for paying the money.

All she wanted to do was run to Roderick, but he was at Hazlemere. The burden was hers alone.