stared after her, stunned. She hadn’t loved Lallerton? Then why in Hades had she remained in seclusion for seven years? Why had she set herself so flatly against marriage?
There was something odd here. She had said simply that she hadn’t loved Lallerton. But her tone of voice had said a great deal more …
Her perfect day was over. Thea sat with a smile of polite interest plastered to her face as she listened to the violinist Lady Fairchild had engaged for the evening. She should be enjoying this, but as the violin sang and soared, her thoughts spun wildly between doubt and searing conviction. Richard had not attended and Lord Dunhaven’s presence beside her served only to increase her distraction.
Could they have lied about her child’s death? Yes. Easily. And why, oh, why had she been fool enough to tell Richard that she hadn’t loved Lallerton?
Had Lord Dunhaven moved his chair slightly? He was too close, especially in the overheated room. Her temples began to throb.
His lordship leaned closer, murmuring something about how much he enjoyed Mozart.
‘Haydn,’ she told him, and had the dubious pleasure of seeing him turn a dull brick-red. Dunhaven hated being contradicted—especially when he was wrong.
Would they have lied?
Over something like that? With the honour of the family involved? With David at risk? Oh, yes. They would have lied. In a moment.
The accusation of that morning’s note hung before her in letters of fire: Did they tell you that the child was dead? Were you relieved …?
The sonata ended and the audience applauded with well-bred enthusiasm.
Yes. She had been relieved. For a moment. A day. And then the grief had come. The grief she had not been allowed to show. And the guilt.
But what if her child had survived? How could she find out?
Chapter Eight
She came down to breakfast the following morning to discover Richard already there. He had plainly finished his bacon and eggs and progressed to the toast-and-coffee stage.
Richard smiled at her over his paper. ‘Good morning.’
Was it her imagination, or did he look somehow careworn? ‘Good morning,’ she replied.
‘Shall I bring some more toast, Miss Thea?’ asked Myles.
‘Yes. Yes, please,’ she said. She doubted that she could face eggs.
Myles disappeared.
Richard said, ‘Thea—about yesterday—’
Myles burst back into the parlour.
‘Mr Richard!’
Richard dropped the paper into his toast.
‘Yes?’
Myles was holding out a letter. ‘A messenger brought this. From Blakeney, sir. His lordship’s writing—’
Richard had shoved his chair back, leapt to his feet and was breaking the seal with fumbling fingers before Myles had finished speaking. Thea stared, dumbfounded. He looked … he looked frightened, his eyes dark in a white face, his mouth a hard, set line as he scanned the letter. Then—
‘YES!’
Thea’s tea sloshed into the saucer as Richard’s howl of triumphant delight rent the air. Then, the letter floating to the table, Richard seized Myles and practically waltzed around the room, his face alive and brimming with joy.
‘Mr Richard! What is it?’
With which breathless question Thea heartily concurred.
‘A boy, Myles! It’s a boy! I’m an uncle. And her ladyship is perfectly well! She’s come through safely, thank God!’
Her heart contracted. His sister-in-law, Lady Blakehurst, had come safely through the birth of her child. A small hidden corner of her soul echoed his words: Thank God.
She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the memories pouring through her. They came anyway, relentless, raking her painfully. She forced them away, concentrating on the unknown countess, Richard’s sister-in-law, Verity. What was it like to hold your child at the end, to see it after the months of waiting, of feeling it kick and wriggle inside? To rejoice in the birth of your child, rather than …
Strong, lean hands plucked her from her nightmare and out of her seat.
‘Thea! Did you hear? I’m an uncle!’ He whirled her around, laughing, alight with joy. His strength startled her; he seemed to hold her effortlessly, spinning her around so that her feet left the floor. She clutched at his shoulders, feeling hard muscles surge under the superfine of his coat, wildly aware of his hands on her waist, spanning her ribcage.
Her heart pounded, her mouth dried and his eyes laughed into hers as he set her down. ‘I’m an uncle. And—’ he cleared his throat ‘—about to be a godfather.’
He still had his hands on her waist, not gripping now, just resting there, as though … as though they belonged there. Intimate. Possessive.
‘That’s … that’s wonderful, Richard,’ she faltered, gazing up at him. He was close, so close. Sensation splintered through her, leaving her dizzy and breathless.
The laughter faded from his eyes as he stared back at her, stared as though he saw her for the first time, his mouth suddenly hard. His hands tightened slightly at her waist, fingers shifting in a way that sent heat flying through her. It reached her cheeks in a fiery blush as she realised the intimacy of his hold, that her breasts were nearly brushing against him. That they ached. And then, to her utter shock, that she wanted to lean forward, to press the ache against him. That did frighten her.
Richard knew instantly; saw the moment her eyes widened, heard the sudden startled breath as she realised how close they were.
He forced his fingers to relax, his hands to drop to his sides. But his body remained taut with the tension that had exploded when he felt the softness of her body in his hands, saw the delicate flush on her cheeks as he swung her around. Hell! He wasn’t supposed to feel like this!
Like what?
As though he wanted to take her back into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless, until her mouth and body melted under his, and …
Stop right there! This was insane. Surely he couldn’t possibly be standing here—in his godmother’s breakfast parlour, no less!—struggling against the urge to kiss Thea Winslow senseless? After she had categorically refused his offer of marriage the previous day? Apparently he was. And no matter what honour, not to mention common sense, thought of the idea, his body was making its opinion strongly felt. Visible too. He certainly didn’t need to look and he hoped to heaven that Thea wouldn’t.
She
