A Proper Mistress (12 page)

Clear gray eyes lifted and regarded Molly through the lorgnette glasses, its gold chain glittering as the sun drifted through the tree leaves.

Lady Thorpe's smile faded into sagging, parched skin. "Why, why you're not Amy!"

The words came out almost accusing.

Theo stepped forward and said firmly, as if speaking to a child, "Lady Thorpe, may I present Miss Molly Sweet."

She glanced at him and the smile lit her faded eyes again, brightening them, lifting her face again from the sagging wrinkles. "Ah, Lord Howe, how nice to see you."

Molly frowned. She shot a look at Theo? Was he really a lord? Had he been less than honest about his identity? But his father's servants had not addressed him as if he had a title.

Lady Thorpe's voice drew her attention back, for the older woman suddenly announced, her tone commanding, "You're not Amy! Amy's dead. I remember now."

She glared at Molly for a moment as if somehow it was her fault that she was not Amy. But her face lightened again. "Oh, but of course—you must be Amy's daughter! Yes. That's it! You must be my niece Mary all grown up!"

A shiver skittered through Molly, and aching desire spread after it. Could it be possible? Just perhaps? Her mother's name had been Amelia, not Amy. Still, that was close. And while she had never been called anything but Molly, was that not sometimes the pet name for Mary?

Gracious, it seemed impossible, yet Molly's mind spun with dazzling visions of having found relatives. Would that not be the most outlandish coincidence—or, perhaps, as the Hindu, said, perhaps karma had led her here?

Only she knew that she wanted this too much—was too willing to believe. She wanted to be this woman's niece. To be anyone's niece. Or a sister, or cousin, or just related in some fashion. To no longer be alone in the world.

A lovely fantasy, but practical sense, earned with long years in a harsh world, told her to be sensible.

Only still that tantalizing hope persisted in her, beating wildly in her pulse.

"It's Molly, my lady. Molly Sweet," she said, stressing her name, more to herself than to anyone else.

Lady Thorpe beamed at her as if she had not even spoken. "Ah, Mary, you look so like your mother."

Molly's heart twisted and that flicker of hope spiraled into a warm blaze. Oh, but how she wanted this woman to be her aunt. Could it be possible? She glanced at Theo, instinctively seeking reassurance from him that she was not fooling herself. Only what had he said? Something about agreeing to whoever Lady Thorpe took her to be?

Was this all some silly jest?

The hope twisted again inside her, this time into something desperate.

She had thought herself long ago accustomed to loss—she had nothing left of her parents. Not even the gold locket that had once held their likeness. But now she realized how unprepared she had been for anyone to touch this ancient scare.

Glancing back at Lady Thorpe, she tried for a light, careless voice that masked the quivering confusion inside her. "You must have mistaken me for—"

Theo's voice cut through her words. "For your mother—of course she did. Now, bid your
aunt
a good day, Mary. Or we shall be here forever." Leaning close, he muttered, "And don't forget I'm Lord Howe, so that gives me rank over you."

He offered up a charming smile and Molly stared at him, utterly baffled, feeling as tattered now as rags in the wind.
What is going on here!
She wanted to shout the words at someone.

Lady Thorpe spoke again, her voice frail with age. "You must come visit me soon, Mary. I do insist. Lord Thorpe and I shall be delighted to receive you at Lanton Hall." She smiled at the younger man in the carriage with her. He said nothing, merely inclined his head as if agreeing.

Molly looked from Theo to Lady Thorpe, still tempted to burst out and demand a full explanation. Was everyone now pretending to be someone else? But she caught the warning glance from Theo and bit off her words.

Lady Thorpe seemed not to notice any of the tension now swirling around the carriage—not Theo's impatience, nor Molly's confusion. Her lined faced wrinkled with smiles. She sat back and told her coachman to drive on, pausing only to wave again to them with a hand encased in white kidskin.

When the carriage had rattled away, Molly turned to Theo, the words bursting out, "And just who is Lord Howe? Or Mary? Or Lady Thorpe for that matter?"

Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he started down the lane again, toward Winslow Park. "That, my sweet Sweet, is the eccentric of Halsage—I suppose every neighborhood must boast one. And you may count yourself lucky she didn't keep us longer, pulling other names from her past and pegging them onto us."

Molly bit her lower lip. She had guessed this as the truth, already, yet still she did not want to give up that slim, slim hope. Oh, she could be so stupid at times.

"So it was all a mistake? Her thinking she knew me or my mother?"

He glanced at her, blue eyes narrowing. "Mistake? What else could it be?"

She wet her lips and tried for the most careless of tones. "Well, I had thought—that is, I don't really know any of my relatives."

Stopping, he stared at her. "Why in blazes would you want to be related to her? She's a harmless enough lunatic, I suppose, but her family avoids her as much as the rest of the world tries to."

Molly glanced down the lane, to where the it curved and the carriage had disappeared. "Oh, the poor woman—to be so alone."

Still holding her hand, he started walking again, his stride long enough that Molly had to quicken her pace to stay with him. "Don't waste your pity on her. She goes about happy as a hen in a corn bin, and it's the rest of us who must endure. That fellow with her—that's her butler. Half the time she takes him for Lord Thorpe. And, as you heard, I'm Howe—I have no idea who in blazes he was. Some ancient beau, I think. Still, I'd rather be him than her nephew, as I used to be—he seems to have been a bit of a prig, for she despised him and his father and forever went about telling me how horrible I'd grow up to be!"

Molly let out a laugh, part relief and part amusement. Now that she knew the poor old lady was quite dotish and had meant no harm she had no reason to feel disappointed. It had been impossible all along that Lady Thorpe had known her mother.

Really, it was.

"What a pleasant thing to live with the past still around you no matter what changes," she said, shifting her thought away from her own past. Far better to have empathy, she told herself, with the old woman rather than pity for herself.

Theo gave a shrug. "Don't know about that. I should far rather have the present." He glanced down at her and smiled. "Particularly such a nice present."

Pleasure warmed her and she allowed it, but she wondered if she, too, might lose her grasp of reality if she dabbled too long in such fantasy. Such a silly thought. Just because Lady Thorpe turned everyone's identity turned around, didn't mean she had to, too.

Still, she decided that she had had enough of too quickly raised and dashed expectations for the day. Best not to court any more with daydreams about anything being behind Theo's words just now other than a young gentleman's idle flirtation.

Think of the fifty pounds he's paying you.

With that in mind, she gave him a saucy smile. "Well, ducks, for the present I'm fair famished. What say we toddle back and see about a little something?"

"I could think of a very improper something."

Remembering Sallie's advice, she propped a hand on her hip. "Well, I don't know as you could afford my price for that."

 His grin widened. "Perhaps. But I have a feeling you might be worth going well into hock for—my sweet Sweet. However, for now let us find something else to satisfy you, eh?"

#

After strolling back to Winslow Park, Theo had tea brought for Molly. When she'd had her fill, he took her off to the billiards room, declaring there could be no better way to spend the remainder of the day.

Stripping off his coat, he settled to the game with dedicated concentration, and while Molly had regarded him with caution at first there was nothing lover-like about his attentions that afternoon. She stiffened as he reached around her to show her how to hold her billiard cue. But while his hands on her arms lifted her pulse, he seemed not to notice anything but the balls on the table and the aim of getting one of them into the net pockets.

Billiards, it seemed, required complete absorption, and Molly soon found herself as caught up in the art of calculating angles and her aim. It was only as the light began to fade that she realized they had played well past the usual early country hours for dinner.

After racking the cues again, Theo dragged on his coat, saying, "We might as well go on shocking Simpson by not changing for dinner."

She found herself unable to resist the glimmer of mischief in his eyes and so she agreed, but Simpson, it seemed, had determined either to ignore any further lapses in decorum or at least to offer no reaction to them. He bowed them into the dining room without comment as to their attire or to the delayed hour of the meal.

Two footmen immediately brought dishes. Glancing at them, Molly saw the signs that the cook had had to struggle to keep them warm. The haddock had been covered with a sauce that did not quite hide its overcooked dryness. Burnt edges scarred a pie. And no sauce could disguise that a dish of French beans had become limp strands.

Distressed that their carelessness with time had been the cause of this disaster, Molly glanced at Simpson. "Gracious, the poor cook! Please do send apologies for having to wait on us."

That drew a shocked stare from him. Glancing around, Molly realized that Theo, too, as well as the footmen were all looking at her with similar dumbfounded expressions.

She realized she had spoken quite out of character for a hard-hearted jade and so she added, her accent laid on thick, "Now, what say we tuck in to a good feed!"

She seated herself and held up her soup bowl for serving. Simpson's expression returned to pained disapproval, one of the footmen shook his head and Theo's shoulders relaxed.

So much for my thinking I am any sort of actress,
Molly told herself. She was not doing very good at keeping up her pretense. And her feelings tangled between the wish that Theo's father might return at once to get this done, and the dragging desire to put off the confrontation that must come from such a meeting even just a little bit longer.

I really must keep thinking only of the money I am here to earn,
she thought. But somehow her fifty pounds keep getting pushed behind everything else.

They played backgammon again that evening, and Theo was in a mood to flirt. He wanted to wager on the outcome of the games, but Molly only shook her head and insisted, "It wouldn't be right for me to fleece you."

That put him on his mettle and he actually won one of the games, which put in a good enough mood that he promised to show her the ruins of an old Norman tower which lay near the village of Halsage.

The next day, however, started with clouds thick across the sky and looking ready for a summer storm. Not wanting to get caught in the rain, Molly declined the offer of a tour of the local ruins.

"A little wetting won't hurt," Theo insisted.

"It wouldn't help, either, for I'm not like to grow from it," she shot back.

He gave a laugh. "Oh, very well. Then what shall we do? Billiards or backgammon? Or shall we take up cards?"

She opted for billiards, thinking that would provide him enough activity for he seemed bursting with energy. But he paced the room and fussed with his own cue and hers so much that finally she said, "Why do you not at least go riding? I've a bit of stitching to do, anyway."

He lifted one dark eyebrow. "First cooking, now sewing—how domestic you sound."

She blushed, but met the glinting humor in his eyes with an unflustered stare. "And why shouldn't I be? I'm a working girl, I am—and I'm not used to this lounging about all day."

With a grin, he came around the billiards table to stand close enough beside her that she could see the darker flecks of cobalt in his blue eyes.

"You won't go outside with me, but you're willing for me to get a wetting. What about my devoted appearance to you? I can't very well go off and leave your side, now can I?"