Candice Hern (14 page)

"And so now you will have to
dis
courage it," Wilhelmina said, "for your own peace of mind."

"That is what Lord Thayne says. He wants to give her up and begin an affair with me. Can you believe it?"

"Of course I can," Penelope said. "And you should allow him to do so."

"To be seen to jilt poor Emily? To publicly embarrass her by his apparent rejection? No, it is too late. There are already expectations. His parents are pressing for the match. The duke is enchanted with Emily and the duchess finds her charming. Emily's mother is dead set on the match and will have my head if he is not brought up to scratch. Emily certainly makes it clear that she will entertain an offer from him. She publicly favors him above all others. It's out of control, you see. The marquess can't back down now, though he is determined to do so."

"And he is right to do so," Grace said. "Even if you do not embark upon an affair, the fact that you have been intimate with him, even once, will make it awkward if he marries your niece."

"Believe me, I have thought of little else. It is making me crazy." Tears welled up in her eyes again.

Marianne squeezed her shoulder. She had never let go. "You poor thing. It is indeed a difficult situation. More than awkward. But Wilhelmina and Grace are right. It is best if he removes himself from Emily's circle."

"I do not want Emily hurt," Beatrice said. "The
ton
can be vicious, as we all know. There will be talk if he backs down now."

"That may be so," Marianne said, "but it will pass."

"And when it does," Penelope said, "you can take him for your lover without concern."

Beatrice shook her head. "No, never. It would always be awkward. It would seem as though I stole my niece's suitor."

"If you are discreet," Wilhelmina said, "no one need know."

But Beatrice would know. And would feel guilty and ashamed. "It seems poor Emily is bound to be hurt in this, no matter what I do. Lord Thayne will never make her an offer."

"Then you must convince her not to expect one," Wilhelmina said. "Give her the chance to make it look as if
she
is the one backing down."

Beatrice considered the idea for a moment and wondered if it might be possible. Though how to convince Emily to change her mind about Lord Thayne was something Beatrice could not imagine. The girl was determined on er course and it would require a prodigious effort to shke her resolve. But it must be done.

Her friends were right. Beatrice had to make this work out somehow. And if it did?

I want you Lady Somerfield, and I always get what I want.

She thought of his kiss and how she had melted into it so easily. Would they eventually be sharing more than a kiss in the moonlight? Did she want more?

God help her, she did.

"May I have a word, Countess." Thayne could not allow her to ignore him, or what had happened between them, as she seemed determined to do.

"The soprano is about to begin her aria." Lady Somerfield looked away from him and appeared to watch the guests taking their seats in Mrs. Verey-Nicolson's drawing room, which had been arranged for a musical evening. Thayne had already sat through an interminable harp solo. He did not think he could bear another assault to his ears.

"Yes, she is," he said, "but I wonder if you would mind if we sat it out in the refreshment room. We have things to discuss, you and I."

"Yes, I suppose we do. But I must return for the glee. Two of Emily's particular friends will be singing, and she would be disappointed if I missed it."

"It shall be as you wish, Artemis."

"Please do not call me that."

"I have no other name for you. 'Lady Somerfield' is much too formal for such
intimate
friends."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but smiled, which gave him hope. "Tea is being served in one of the anterooms, I believe. It is this way."

They walked in silence through several connected rooms, stopping occasionally for Lady Somerfield to exchange a word with one of the guests. A few begged introductions, and Thayne was faced with more than one stammering, blushing young girl. He turned on his best aristocratic hauteur and, in most cases, offered no more than a nod and a how-d'ye-do. However, one overbearing mother hen with a chest like a ship's prow managed to manipulate him into asking her pale-faced daughter to reserve a dance for him at the Oscott ball two days hence. The poor girl almost fell into a swoon.

But Artemis was calm and poised. There was a self-possession about her, an easiness one seldom saw in younger women. Her niece, for example, who had lost no time in running him to ground this evening. Ever since he'd decided he could not court her, he'd become more aware of her flaws. She was full of forced animation, always conscious of her beauty, posing to her best advantage. Her conversation was overly cheerful, or tinged with boredom, depending on her audience. She always seemed to be
on
, like a performer, which must be exhausting.

Her aunt, on the other hand, was a picture of serenity in contrast. Equally confident, but more comfortable in her skin. There was nothing forced or false about Lady Somerfield.

He bent and whispered in her ear, "I don't suppose there is a dark corner we could slip into?"

"No, my lord, there is not."

"Damn. No gardens, either, I take it."

"No gardens. This way, if you please."

She led them, at last, through a door into a room set up with several tables, all of them filled to capacity with others who preferred to skip the soprano. More guests stood about in groups. Footmen threaded their way between the tables, pouring tea and, he was thankful to note, wine.

"Oh, dear," Artemis said. "This was not the best idea, it seems."

"Over there," he said, and gestured to a window seat where a man and woman stood and looked ready to leave.

They shouldered their way toward the window just in time to claim the vacated bench. Lady Somerfield sat, and Thayne was tempted to remain standing, where he could look down on her beautifully exposed bosom. But the noise of a dozen conversations, not to mention the music from the drawing room, made it difficult to hear, and so he sat beside her. Which was even better, as it turned out. The narrow width of the bench meant that her thighs and hips brushed up against his.

Thayne procured two glasses of wine from a passing footman, and held his up in salute. "To serendipity," he said, and touched his glass to hers, "which brought us together that night at the masquerade."

He leaned in close on the pretense of not wishing to be overheard. But in fact the din of conversation was too loud for anyone to hear them. "I am glad you agreed to speak to me. I wasn't sure you would. I'm hoping you have reconsidered what we discussed when we last met. About us, I mean."

"No, I haven't reconsidered. Well, not entirely."

He grinned. "Not entirely? I am hopeful, then."

"Lord Thayne, I —"

"Please, no more lording me. We are beyond that, you and me. In private, at least. My name is Gabriel, though only my mother ever uses it. I have never liked the name, in fact. My friends simply call me Thayne." He leaned in even closer. "But you may call me 'my love' or 'darling' or anything you like."

She smiled and pulled back slightly. "I shall call you Thayne. But please, do not sit so close. I do not wish for us to be the subject of gossip."

He shifted his position a bit. "It's a narrow bench. I will attempt a decorous distance, but I'm afraid parts of us are fated to ... touch."

She arched an elegant brow and looked at him over the brim of her wineglass, but did not comment.

"And what of you?" he asked. "You will not allow me to call you Artemis, though it suits you. Will you honor me with your Christian name?"

She looked at him for a long moment before responding. "Beatrice."

"Ah, Beatrice. One who brings joy. You are certainly that, my lady. And I live in hope that you will bestow more joy upon me in the very near future."

She frowned. "Please. This is madness. There is still Emily. She is still determined to bring you up to scratch."

"And she will have no success in doing so, as I have told you before."

"But she will continue to try, and that makes it awkward for me. Don't you understand?" Her brow puckered and she gazed at him intently. "Yes, I will admit I am attracted to you, Thayne. You know that I am. But until Emily ceases to view you as a potential suitor, it just doesn’t feel comfortable for me."

He took a long swallow of wine. "Damn the girl. Do you know she attached herself to me almost as soon as I arrived? She made it quite impossible to avoid sitting beside her during that wretched harp solo."

"You see what I mean?" She sliced the air with her hand, and her voice rose in frustration. "She will keep trying until she has worn you down. I wish you would do something to discourage her once and for all."

"If that is what it takes to have you in my arms again, I will publicly reject her."

Her expression softened. "Oh, no, Thayne. Please, nothing so harsh as that. But her vanity could use a bit of bruising. Perhaps if she sees that you are immune to her beauty, her pride will force her to give up the cause. But that will never happen if she keeps charming you into doing her bidding."

"It was not charm. I simply did not wish to appear churlish before so many onlookers."

"It is all the same. She will be seen sitting beside you and dancing with you, people will continue to link your names, expectations will mount, and before you know it, you will have been cajoled into making her an offer."

He laughed. "You must have more faith in me than that. No one — not Emily, my mother, or anyone else — is allowed to order my life for me. No one."

"Emily will try. Believe me. I know her well."

"But I see that you have decided I am right about backing away from her. The last time we met, you seemed determined that I should court the girl. I am glad you have changed your mind."

Her lips pursed into a tiny grimace before she spoke. "I simply cannot accept the notion of my niece marrying a man with whom I've ... been intimate."

"Which is precisely why I will never marry her. Even if I wanted to, I could never do that to you, Beatrice. What she needs is a distraction. What if we threw another attractive suitor at her head?"

She gave a little snort. "Do you not see the court of admirers that always follows in her wake? There are any number of potential suitors littering my drawing room almost every day. But none of them is an heir to a duke."

"Are there any other dukes available we could throw in her path? I have been away so long that I have no idea."

Beatrice smiled and shook her head. "The only other bachelor duke is Devonshire, and he's deaf as a post and doesn't seem inclined to marry. There are always the royal dukes, I suppose. Clarence, for example."

"Is he as fat as I remember?"

"They're all fat. No, I think we will have to come up with something else."

Thayne surreptitiously pressed his knee against hers. "I will contrive a plan, I promise you. And you must have more faith in my lionhearted resolve against one troublesome young chit. We shall be together, you and I, if I have to pay someone to abduct the wretched girl and drag her to Gretna Green."

* * *

Thayne had lost no time in putting a plan in action to deal with the problem of Miss Emily Thirkill.

"You don't mean it." Jeremy Burnett stood beside him in the shadows of a large classical statue in one corner of the room. "How the devil am
I
supposed to capture her attention away from you?"

"With your infamous charm. And by staying at my side. Even if the girl does not make her usual effort to track me down, I fully intend to speak with her aunt. If Miss Thirkill is not with Lady Somerfield at that precise moment, you may be sure she will lose no time in returning to her aunt, ready to flaunt her beauty in my face. She is persistent as a fly on a hound's nose."

"She's devilish gorgeous, that's what she is."

"Which should make your job all the more easy." Thayne watched his friend and knew that look in his eye. The girl's looks had had him smitten from the first.

"I agree it is no great effort to spend time with her," Burnett said. "But if she has her sights on a marquess, what makes you think she'll deign to show interest in a plain mister?"

"Your father's an earl."

"But
I
shall never be, unless you have some sinister plot to remove my two elder brothers. No, there is nothing to recommend me to that sort of girl."

"Nonsense. Your fortune alone is a powerful recommendation. And you forget that I have seen how you charmed your way into every zenana in India, not to mention the bedrooms of every British woman there under forty. Besides, I am not asking you to marry the girl, or even to seduce her. Just to be there to aim some of that charm in her direction while I attempt to depress her hopes with my most imperious condescension. She's a tough little nut, though. Alone, my arrogance makes no impression on her. But your good nature can act as a counterpoint to my rudeness. When she is angling for me to request a dance, you step in and request it first. Think of it as being a sort of bodyguard. Keep her away from me as much as possible."

"A bodyguard, eh? I might require a hefty fee for such strenuous employment."

"What sort of fee?"

"Hmm. I just might want to rid you of one of those Hindu statues."

"If you can get that damned girl to give up any notion that I'll make her an offer, you may have as many statues as you want."

"You think this will work? That she'll give up if I keep her away from you?"

"She will not like to be seen pursuing a man who has no interest in her. It would be too wounding to her pride. Hopefully the girl will eventually let it be known that she has no interest in
me
and never did have. But it is a two-man job, I assure you. It will take me twice as long to be rid of her without your help. And the sooner the girl picks up her cap and walks away, the sooner her aunt will agree to an affair."