Two Wrongs Make a Marriage (16 page)

Of course, he had never met Cyn.

And now she was nestled into him like a sleepy kitten. She sighed again. ‘You are right. That is much better.’

He paused, expecting a dismissal.

‘Don’t stop. Your hands feel wonderful.’ She had relaxed enough to be completely unguarded. If he was smart, he would press the advantage, turn the massage into a caress and gain what he had wanted from the first night. He could leave after and still be gone before the sun was fully up.

Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair, removing the tiara and loosing the pins that held the elaborate coif so that he could massage her scalp. This elicited an almost-unladylike groan. ‘The late Lady Spayne was too right,’ she murmured. ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.’

‘Henry IV,’
he said with surprise.

‘Henry IV Part Two,’
she answered without looking up. ‘There is much I did not seek to learn from my mother, but a knowledge of Shakespeare was quite inescapable.’

‘And the quote is appropriate,’ he agreed. ‘You hair was bound so tightly it surprises me that you can think at all.’

She shook out the mane of red so that it fell free to her shoulders. ‘I must dress it so. The curls run wild, otherwise.’

‘And we mustn’t have that,’ he mocked, remembering the shocking profusion that her mother had allowed and the way she’d refused to powder it, even when roles had required it. In response her daughter seemed to have adopted a style that, while most fashionable, was the picture of restraint. But as he undid the braids, Thea’s curls wrapped around his fingers as though they could tie him to her.

‘Tonight, the braids were the only thing holding me up. Now that you have undone them, I swear, I am almost too weak to stand.’

‘Then let me help you.’ He pulled her to her feet and scooped her into his arms. She was a surprisingly easy burden, fitting perfectly in his hold.

She gave one sleepy murmur of protest before snuggling close again. ‘What are you doing to me?’ she asked, but it was hardly the demanding tone he’d grown accustomed to.

‘Putting you to bed.’ He turned and went into the house, down the hall and mounted the stairs towards their rooms.

‘But I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. With you.’

He might inform her that if it was togetherness she wanted, a bed was just the place for it. Instead, he said, ‘You will not be so charitable once I am through with you, I am sure.’

‘I shall return to detesting you when I am not so tired,’ she agreed. ‘And when you have not been so kind to me.’

‘And I will go back to being despicable tomorrow.’ Hadn’t his plan been quite the opposite only a moment ago?

But leaving would mean leaving the delightful baggage who had twisted her fingers around his lapel and was now burying her face against his neck. ‘Do not send me to bed like a child. Tell me what you are planning.’ A touch of her old firmness was returning, now that her head was no longer bothering her. But it explained the real reason she wished to stay with him, even though it was not as flattering as the one he’d chosen to imagine.

‘I hardly know myself,’ he admitted. ‘And no amount of thinking will force it from me tonight. I suspect I shall wake with some idea of what to do next. I will share it with you then. It will be over soon enough and then you will be rid of me.’ Why did his impending freedom seem less appealing than it had only a moment ago?

‘I shall miss you,’ she replied. ‘I am growing quite used to you destroying my peace of mind.’

They were at her door now. He fumbled with the handle. There were probably a dozen glib comments he could have made about what he would like to do to disturb her calm, but he could not manage to think of one. Instead, he carried her to the bed and set her down on the edge, then reached behind her to undo the lacing on her gown.

‘I should call a maid.’

‘No need, my dear. I assure you, I am quite an experienced dresser and not the least bit shy.’

‘Actors,’ she muttered with a laugh as he efficiently stripped her to shift and stockings, pulled back the coverlet and tucked her into bed.

‘Sleep,’ he answered, and planted a single kiss on the top of her ginger head before going through the door to his own room.

Chapter Thirteen

‘L
ady Kenton, you have visitors.’ Polly drew back the curtains of the bed and let in the late morning light.

Thea yawned and touched her temple, surprised that her head did not hurt as it had just a few hours before. She had a vague recollection of being put innocently to bed by the man who, earlier in the evening, had been trying to remove her gown in the hall. One or the other of the recollections had to be a dream, for they did not seem to correspond.

She looked sleepily at her maid. ‘Did you say visitors in the plural?’

Polly gave her a confused look.

‘Are there more than one? And do these people realise that I did not lie down until dawn?’

‘One of them is your mother,’ Polly said. It explained much. Since she had returned to London, her mother had shown little sense of convention, coming and going as she pleased without invitation or announcement.

‘And the other?’

‘Mr Henry de Warde, my lady.’

At this, Thea sat bolt upright, gathering the sheets about her. ‘Here? Already?’ She squinted at the clock. ‘It is barely ten o’clock.’ She thought hurriedly. ‘Have Graves put him in the library and fetch my husband to speak to him.’

‘Lord Kenton is still asleep,’ Polly said. ‘And Mr de Warde wishes to speak to you. And the library is already occupied. Lord Spayne...’

‘Does not wish to see his brother,’ Thea agreed. Of course, neither did she. Damn Jack for sleeping when there was so much to be done. She had no instruction as to how to proceed. ‘The drawing room for Mr de Warde, then.’

‘And your mother waits in the morning room.’

‘Keep the two separate,’ Thea said, unsure what her mother was likely to do should she know of the man’s presence. Worse yet, what embarrassing question Mr de Warde was likely to ask of her after last night’s discussion. ‘Refreshments for everyone. Dress me in the blue muslin. And for heaven’s sake, send the valet to Kenton’s room and get him downstairs to help me with this.’

* * *

A few minutes later, when Thea entered the morning room, she found her mother holding court over the maid that poured her chocolate, looking as regal as a duchess and grander by far than the earl hiding in the library. But then, Antonia Banester carried out every social call as though it were an opportunity to take centre stage.

Annoying as it was, Thea had to admit that it had served the older woman well. Her past should have been a damning blight on any reputation, but her mother had made it a sort of asset. She sat even the most common chair as though it were a throne and allowed gentlemen to admire her for her beauty and her vivacity, while acting as friend, confidante or sympathetic shoulder to ladies. As long as she was silent, she appeared to be the mostly gently bred of females.

It was only when she opened her mouth that Thea worried, for there was no telling what she was likely to say.

‘Mother,’ she said, her tone low so as not to carry to other parts of the house. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I heard the most interesting rumour at the ball last night,’ her mother responded, her eyes full of devilment. ‘And strangely enough, it concerned me.’

‘About that...’ Thea tried to think of a logical place to begin the story.

‘Lady Antonia.’ Behind her, Jack fairly skidded into the doorway, still tugging his cravat into shape and pushing past Thea as though she did not matter. Then he stood before her mother, bowing deeper than he had before, as though she were truly a duchess and he a footman.

‘My dear boy.’ Though Thea felt sleep deprived and fuzzy, her mother was in fine form this morning, practically sparkling at the opportunity to make a fresh conquest. She waited for Jack to raise his face to her, then held out her hands to take his, pulling him forwards and kissing him lightly on the cheek.

To Thea’s horror, the man who was supposed to be her husband looked up with a sincere and uncontrollable blush and the eyes of a sheep.

She set her teeth against each other until she could hear them grind, and clenched her fists to prevent the slap on the arm that he deserved and she most assuredly wished to deliver. ‘Stop this nonsense, Jack. You have met my mother before, you know. You saw her just last night.’

‘The ballroom was hardly the place to suggest what I had in mind. And I could not speak candidly, for we were not alone,’ he responded without turning his head.

‘You are not alone with her,’ Thea reminded him acidly. ‘I am here.’

‘Of course, darling,’ her mother said dismissively. ‘We have not forgotten you. Now let the man speak.’

‘Lady Antonia,’ he said, wetting his lips as though nervous. ‘I never thought to ask this of the woman who ensnared me from the stage when I was so young as to hardly understand what the feelings meant, but I find myself in need of an actress.’

‘You wish me to perform again?’ Her mother laid a trembling hand upon her breast as though shocked, a gesture which Thea knew to be false modesty. It amazed her that anyone was fooled by such, for she had learned almost from birth to be suspicious of it.

‘It is a small part,’ he said, staring at his feet and toeing the carpet, humble in response. ‘Hardly
worthy of you.’

‘I have been retired for many, many years,’ her mother responded with a sidelong, demure glance that she used when she wished someone to notice the green glory of her eyes. ‘It is most flattering to think that there are those who can still remember.’

‘How could I forget?’ he said with a sigh.

‘I am sure if you tried, you could manage it,’ Thea prompted and poked him in the sleeve with a stiffened finger. ‘We do not have time to reminisce right now. De Warde is in the next room.’

‘De Warde?’ her mother said, alarmed. For a moment, the glamour seemed to fade and the older, worried woman underneath it was revealed.

‘Jack forced me to tell the most outlandish lie about you last night. Now I fear we shall all have to answer for it.’

‘There is no time to explain fully,’ said Jack, staring past her in the direction of the sitting room. ‘But we need you to beguile Henry de Warde.’

Her mother gave him a sharp look. ‘I do not know what you think of me, my lord, but I am most devoted to my husband and do not wish to have anything to do with that odious man.’

‘I understand,’ Jack assured her. ‘And might I say that Banester is lucky to have such loyalty from one who could have any man she chose. What we require is nothing more than a short conversation. A few words only, but delivered with the grace and confidence that I know you are capable of giving them so that he believes you utterly and completely. We need you to tell de Warde that you are
enceinte
and that it is the result of the statue he sold to your husband.’

Her mother gave a short, unladylike laugh that quickly modulated into a seductively throaty chuckle. Thea could almost see the hair rising on the back of Jack’s neck. When her mother used her charms to the fullest, as she tended to do when caught off guard, few men could resist. ‘How utterly delicious.’ She smiled winningly at Jack. ‘I assume that you have some nefarious scheme afoot?’

‘I would not call it nefarious, exactly.’ Jack’s eyes were downcast again, hands behind his back.

‘It is wicked in the extreme,’ Thea corrected. ‘We mean to trick the man out of the money he has taken and hopefully we will leave him as destitute as he has left us.’

‘Stronger than I’d have put it,’ Jack admitted.

‘Thea has always had a way of plain speaking. I could not seem to break her of it,’ Lady Antonia said with pity, as though the truth were some embarrassing birthmark that could not be removed. ‘But really, do you mean to cheat the man?’

Jack wove his fingers together. ‘Just a bit, perhaps. Really, given the opportunity, he will do the work. As they say, give a man enough rope and he will hang himself.’ Jack smiled at her mother, very near to being besotted.

‘As well you should know, Jack,’ Thea snapped. It was foolish to feel jealous of her own mother, but sometimes it was hard not to be.

‘Do not worry. The circumstances do not bother me overly,’ her mother said with a devious smile. ‘The man deserves all that we can give him in the way of discomfort and embarrassment. I will be happy to oblige.’ She reached into her reticule, produced a vial of hartshorn and waved it delicately beneath her nose. ‘Please, Thea. Take me to the sitting room and allow me to rest. A woman in my condition sometimes has difficulties with morning visits and the sofas are particularly comfortable in that room. I cannot stay long. I am sure your other guest will understand.’

‘This way, Mother,’ Thea said, rolling her eyes at Jack and taking her mother’s arm. It was nonsense, of course. But her partner in crime seemed almost convinced enough to offer assistance, even though he knew full well what caused the sudden indisposition. Before she went, he whispered a few quick words of instruction to Antonia and she nodded in agreement.

Jack remained behind and Thea led her mother the few short steps down the hall to the next room, where their enemy awaited.

‘Please forgive my delay, Mr de Warde,’ she said, relieved that she did not have to face the man alone. ‘But I was receiving my mother and did not wish to leave her.’

‘I much prefer the light in this room,’ her mother said, fanning her face with a gloved hand. ‘And the air is fresher as well. But enough of my delicacies. Mr de Warde.’ Her mother held out both hands to him and, when he took them, leaned in to kiss him on both cheeks.

The gesture was so genuine, and so affectionate, that even the gentleman receiving it seemed surprised. ‘Lady Banester?’

‘It is so good to find you here.’ Her mother coloured prettily, somehow managing to look both look delicate and pale beneath the flush. ‘I am so sorry if I have treated you coldly in the past. My current happiness renders the previous feelings invalid and I hope that an apology will be enough.’