Inconvenient Affair Read online

  “Evadne,” Jeremy said, bowing slightly. “I thought you were resting for tonight.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t, I’m much too excited! I thought I would come and see what you are doing, sir.” She wrapped her hand around his arm and smiled coquettishly up at him, batting her eyelashes.

  Jeremy did not return the smile. “As you see, I am here.”

  “Oh, dear, Mrs. Jameson, that is not the way to arrange flowers at all!”

  “I realize that,” Thea said through gritted teeth as she rose, holding the flowers she had dropped. “But someone must do it.”

  “I quite admire you, ma’am. Yes, I do! You are so industrious and sensible. How wise you were to wear such a dark dress, it won’t matter if the flowers stain it! I’m sure I don’t have a gown that color.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Thea muttered, stabbing flowers at random into the urn.

  “But, ma’am, do you not think you should be resting?” Evadne asked, solicitously. “After all, tonight will be a late evening and I know older people need their rest.”

  Jeremy choked. “Come, Evadne, let us go and see if the duke has anything else planned for this evening.”

  “Oh, yes!” Evadne gazed up at him. “I so enjoy the duke’s entertainments, don’t you?”

  “Yes, he quite enjoyed being having rocks fall on him,” Thea muttered.

  Evadne threw her a quick, limpid-eyed glance. “But I am persuaded that was an accident, and it will not happen again. I shall make sure of it.”

  “Oh?” Jeremy glanced helplessly at Thea’s bent head and then turned away, before Evadne could do any more damage. “And how do you plan to do that?”

  “Why, by staying quite close to you, sir, of course! I cannot wait for you to see my gown, Stanton, it is of white silk,” she went on, as Jeremy led her away. “Mama says I may wear it since no one has seen it in London yet. I suppose you’ll be wearing your burgundy, Mrs. Jameson?”

  Thea glanced up, to see in the mirror that Evadne was looking back over her shoulder. “Yes, Miss Powell.”

  “You are so sensible! But then, perhaps you don’t mind wearing the same gown so often? Of course, no one here matters. You’ll quite like my gown, sir,” she chattered as Jeremy finally led her out of the room. “It has dents de loup about the hem, and it is embroidered in silver—”

  “And it is probably hideous!” Thea exclaimed to the empty room as Evadne’s voice trailed back to her. “How can he stand that little ninny?” She shoved the remaining flowers in at random and then turned away, dusting her hands together. “‘So sensible,’” she mimicked as she strode across the room. “‘Shouldn’t you be resting, Mrs. Jameson?’ and ‘Are you wearing the burgundy?’ Well, no, I am bloody well not wearing the burgundy!”

  “Ma’am?” A footman in the corridor stared at her as she emerged from the ballroom.

  Thea colored, but held her head high. “I don’t believe I should wear burgundy tonight, do you?”

  “No, ma’am,” the footman stuttered.

  “Good.” She stalked past him and ran up the stairs to her room, not caring what anyone might think. Without speaking to her startled maid she crossed the room and pulled a gown out of the wardrobe. “I’ll wear this tonight, Betsy.”

  “But, mum,” Betsy protested, “the burgundy silk, I’ve pressed it already.”

  “Burn it. I never want to see it again.”

  “Yes, mum.” Betsy’s eyes were wide as she dropped a curtsy and then scurried out of the room, the gown Thea had chosen draped over her arm.

  “Old, am I?” Thea glared at her reflection as she stood in front of the dressing table, scattering hair pins and drawing a brush ruthlessly through her hair. “Oh, no, Miss Powell, you’ll see. And so will Mr. DeVilliers, and so will you, Jeremy, you idiot! I can have suitors if I want them and I do not need anyone to tell me how to run my life, and I do not hold people at arm’s length!” She stared defiantly at her flushed cheeks, and then held up her hand in a mock toast. “Tonight, my girl, will be yours.”

  Chapter Nine

  Long before the appointed hour, carriages began streaming toward Rochester Castle, lit on this festive night from the highest tower to the lowest cellar, for the first grand ball held there in many an age. The presence of so many stylish ladies and gentlemen at the Castle had excited a great deal of interest in the neighborhood, and invitations to the ball were a much-coveted item. As the day drew near excited young misses and anxious young men scanned the leaden skies, fearing the weather would interfere with their plans, but the night of the ball was quiet and balmy, with a full moon to light the guests on their way. No fear that a sudden rainstorm would prevent any guests from arriving at, or departing from, the ball.

  The duke and his family stood near the doorway leading into the ballroom, brilliantly lit by hundreds of wax tapers gleaming in the crystal chandeliers and reflected from the pier glasses that lined the walls. The French windows leading to the terrace were open, and already the room was awhirl with color and movement, gentlemen in proper black and white or colors that rivaled the ladies’ gowns, in silks or satins or muslins. Precious jewels glittered and flashed in the light, as sparkling as the conversation. Such an occasion was rare in this part of the world. It was a night most of the guests would long remember.

  Jeremy glanced up yet again as yet another young lady came into the room, her face flushed with excitement, and then looked away. Not Thea, though why he so badly wished to see her he couldn’t say. He wished to apologize for Evadne’s rudeness of the afternoon, of course. Of course. He also hadn’t quite shaken from his mind the image of her as she had appeared this afternoon, slender, graceful, with an uncommon beauty. He didn’t understand it. Thea, of all people, his friend, and yet his need to see her was almost overwhelming.

  “...and I am so glad you wore that coat tonight, Stanton, it quite sets off my gown,” Evadne chattered, and Jeremy came out of himself.

  “Glad to oblige,” he said ironically. He was wearing a coat of darkest blue velvet, with white satin knee breeches and a waistcoat figured in light blue and silver thread. His intention had not been to act as a foil for Evadne, in her evening gown of white watered silk, but that was the role she had assigned him. It was, he realized without much surprise, the role he had played since their engagement. Before, it hadn’t bothered him. Now, it did.

  He became aware that Evadne was staring at him, and he realized that he had missed what she’d said. “You look very lovely, my dear,” he said, and her face cleared. One would never go wrong complimenting Evadne, and in truth, she did look lovely, young and innocent and almost sweet. He wondered, dispassionately, why he had never before noticed that her eyes bulged a bit.

  There was a little stir at the door, and he glanced toward it, unable to see what was causing it for the people who stood there. “Is that the duke coming in at last?” Evadne said, craning her head to see. “I do wish he’d hurry and open the ball so I could dance!”

  “He must greet his guests,” Jeremy said, absently, still looking toward the doorway. He was about to turn away when the crowd parted, and he saw what was causing the stir.

  Thea. Good God. Beside him, Evadne suddenly gripped his arm, but he hardly noticed. For the life of him, he could not look away. Was it really Thea? She was not, tonight, merely a sensible, almost plain widow. Instead she was radiant, smiling, and beautiful. Jeremy’s mind caught at the word and held it. Yes, beautiful, though he’d never before realized it. Her gown was of sapphire blue satin, glowing and glistening, a color he had never seen on her. Her hair had been styled differently, too, framing her face more loosely, with one curl escaping to fall upon a creamy shoulder, left bare by the low-cut gown. The heavy, rich fabric draped over her curves, falling straight to the floor with neither flounce nor rouleau. It was, perhaps, too severe in its simplicity to be stylish, but it suited her. It made her alluring, desirable, no longer simply the friend he sometimes took for granted, but a woman whose attraction wa
s undeniable, a mysterious stranger whom he suddenly wished very much to know.

  As if drawn by a magnet he stepped forward, and Evadne’s hand caught at his arm. “There, the duke is coming in now! I do hope they play a waltz,” she said.

  “Not for the first dance,” Jeremy said, his eyes reluctantly leaving Thea. He was not the only one to discover her beauty; several gentlemen were clustered around her, among them Lord Ware and Lord Pelham.

  “He is an old prude!”

  “Now, girl, that’s not the way to talk of our host,” Agatha said. She had seen the way Jeremy had looked at Thea, and she was not pleased. Evadne had best be careful, or she would lose him. “I’m sure Stanton would be happy to lead you out, no matter what the dance.”

  “Hm?” Jeremy turned to see mother and daughter regarding him, and he blinked. For a moment, they looked so alike—but that was ridiculous. “Oh, of course. Miss Powell?” He gestured toward the floor as the orchestra began to play a cotillion, and she simpered up at him.

  “I would be motht pleathed, my lord,” she said, and let him lead her out, blissfully unaware of the way his lips twitched in annoyance at her lisp.

  “You look beautiful,” Lord Pelham said fervently to Thea across the room, making her blink up at him in surprise.

  “Oh. Thank you, sir,” she said, and looked again at Jeremy and Evadne dancing, making her clenched fists relax. “But Miss Powell is radiant, is she not?” She rushed on before Lord Pelham could answer. “And of course, she does have a good dowry.”

  Lord Pelham looked at Evadne. “Does she?”

  “Yes, so I’m told. And the Powells are a good family.”

  “Of course,” Lord Pelham said, his voice absent-minded. Thea was briefly annoyed, and then amused, at how quickly he changed allegiances. “Excuse me.”

  “Of course, sir.” She had accomplished her goal. For one dance, at least, Jeremy and Evadne would be apart, and she had planted the seeds of greater interest in Lord Pelham’s mind.

  “Bravo,” a voice said behind her, and she turned to see Roger, grinning at her. “Well done, Althea.”

  Thea colored, but she held her head high. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “Don’t you? I fear you’re doomed to failure. The little one has eyes for no one but Stanton.”

  “For now,” Thea murmured. “You do not dance, sir?”

  “I was hoping you would be free, ma’am.”

  She made a little pretense of checking her dance card. “Why, it just so happens I am, sir.”

  “Then I would be happy to lead you out.” He held out his arm and she let him lead her onto the floor, joining one of the sets just forming. She felt different tonight, younger, freer, and life seemed to open to her with boundless opportunities, as it had not since before her marriage. It was the dress, she decided. It not only made people, especially men, look at her differently, it made her feel different, as if there were another person inside her, whose presence she had never suspected. It was a different Thea, a Thea who laughed and smiled and flirted with the gentlemen, a Thea who held no one at arm’s length. She wondered if Jeremy had noticed.

  “Jeremy, you danth tho well,” Evadne said, batting her eyelashes again. Jeremy’s answering smile, as he escorted Evadne from the floor, was remote. Across the room from him he could see Thea, in that remarkable gown, laughing up at DeVilliers, who was clearly ogling her bosom. His hand suddenly tightened on Evadne’s. “You’re hurting me!” she hissed.

  Jeremy looked blankly at her and then loosened his grip. “My apologies,” he said, absently.

  Evadne threw him a look that was not at all flirtatious and then followed his gaze. That hateful Jameson woman! Evadne wanted to stamp her foot in anger and frustration. Tonight was supposed to be her night, and instead Mrs. Jameson was getting all the attention. How dare she wear such a gown. She was old! Why, even Lord Ware and Lord Pelham gazed at her as if she were a goddess. Evadne hadn’t minded Mrs. Jameson when she was dressed in her sensible, high-necked gowns in plain, dull colors. Stanton would soon tire of her and, even if he didn’t, it would remove an onerous wifely duty from Evadne. But, now! Now she had every gentleman in the room clearly besotted with her. It wasn’t fair.

  The orchestra began to play a waltz, and Evadne turned toward Jeremy eagerly. His name was not on her card for this dance, but she didn’t care. It was time she showed Mrs. Jameson, and everyone else, just who mattered in Jeremy’s life.

  “My dance, I believe, Miss Powell,” a voice said beside her, and she turned to see Francis Thorne. Her breath caught in her throat. How absurd! Certainly he was handsome, in a fair-haired, understated sort of way, but nothing to compare with Stanton. He always dressed so carelessly, too, in coats that, though undeniably well-made, never hung quite right on his tall, lean frame. Even tonight his neckcloth seemed limp, in need of another coat of starch. But the shoulders that filled out his coat were his own, unpadded, his legs, in white silk stockings that needed to be straightened, were lean and muscular, and his hand, held out to hers, was broad, strong, and capable.

  “I—believe it is,” she said, more breathlessly than the moment seemed to warrant. “You’ll excuse me, sir?”

  Jeremy smiled down at her and then looked at Francis. “Evening, Thorne.”

  “Sir.” Francis briefly shook his hand. “May I have Miss Powell for this dance?”

  Jeremy nodded, his gaze involuntarily returning across the room, where Thea still stood with Roger. “Of course.”

  Francis’s eyes followed. “You needn’t worry about him.”

  “Needn’t I?” Jeremy turned back. “He bears watching. Still.” He smiled at Evadne. “Best have your waltz now. We are lucky the duke is allowing it.”

  Evadne gave Francis a smile, not her most charming one, and held out her hand. “I would be honored, sir,” she said, with no trace of a lisp, and let him lead her out to the floor. She was not quite able to explain, even to herself, why she was so reluctant to waltz with him.

  Jeremy watched Francis and Evadne begin to waltz, and then turned, at loose ends. He had engaged to dance with few ladies this evening, and so his time was his own. He could go into the card room, he supposed, or join the group of which Chatleigh was a part and talk politics, but neither interested him. His restless gaze went about the room and settled on Thea.

  Again his breath stopped. She was listening to something Roger was saying with every appearance of interest, and the look of serious concentration on her face was as appealing as her smile. She didn’t flirt, his Thea; she didn’t pose, or tease, or lead a man on. She was just herself, and that was why her present behavior was so disturbing. Was she acting tonight, or was this just a side of her he hadn’t seen before? He had to know.

  Nodding and smiling to other acquaintances, he crossed the room. As he reached Thea’s side, Roger gave him a cool, measuring look, which he ignored. “Good evening, ma’am.” He bent over her hand in its white kid glove for a fraction of a second longer than usual, and felt her start of surprise in her fingers. “And may I say how lovely you look tonight?”

  “Thank you, sir.” She gave him a brilliant smile that briefly made his head spin. “You are enjoying the evening?”

  “Quite.”

  “I see your fiancée is waltzing with someone else,” Roger said, and Jeremy’s hand tightened on Thea’s arm.

  “Why, she is with Francis!” Thea said in surprise.

  “Yes. They look well together, do they not?”

  “Yes.” Thea frowned a little, unaware of the way the two men looked at each other. Francis and Evadne did look well together, surprisingly, and disturbingly, so.

  “Are you engaged for this dance, ma’am?” Jeremy said, abruptly, and she came out of her daze.

  “No, sir, I am not, but Mr. DeVilliers—”

  “Go on, Althea,” Roger waved his hand lazily. “We can talk more later.”

  “Very well. Then I would like to dance with you, sir.” She glanced up i
n time to see Jeremy give Roger another steely-eyed look. In return, Roger simply smiled, and bowed.

  “You are behaving strangely tonight, Thea,” Jeremy said in a low voice as he led her onto the floor.

  Thea stopped. “Are you going to lecture me again?”

  “No, but—”

  “Because if you are, I think we should talk someplace a bit more private, don’t you?”

  Jeremy stared at her, not quite believing what she had said, or the coquettish tone of her voice. This was not at all the Thea he knew. The thought was oddly exciting. “Very well, Thea. Shall we go out onto the terrace?”

  “Certainly, sir.” She placed her arm through his and they crossed the crowded ballroom. Outside on the flagstoned terrace the air was soft and balmy, and a full moon rode in the sky above a scattering of clouds and a sprinkling of stars. Thea leaned on the stone balustrade, looking out into the midnight darkness of the garden. “It is a beautiful night.”

  “So it is. Have you ever heard of being moonstruck, Thea?” Jeremy said, his voice husky.

  Thea whirled, but in the dim light she couldn’t see the expression on his face. “I—don’t know what you mean.”

  “That is a most remarkable gown you are wearing, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. Mr. DeVilliers thought so, too.”

  If she had hoped to bring him down to earth, she couldn’t have chosen a better way. He scowled. “Stay away from him, Thea.”

  The old Thea would have bristled at his proprietary tone of voice; this new Thea, who enjoyed wearing such a daring gown and receiving so much masculine attention, merely laughed. “Jealous, Jeremy?”

  “No!” he denied, a little too vigorously. She simply looked up at him, and after a moment, he let out his breath.

  “Yes, damn it. I know I’ve no right, but I don’t like seeing him look at you as if he’s starving and you’re a particularly dainty morsel. Damn it, Thea, that’s not funny!”