took Thea by the hand and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. ‘Dear Dorothea, do come and sit down.’ She led her to a chair, still patting her hand affectionately. ‘I am sure you are exhausted after your journey. Shall I ring for some tea?’
Even her cheeks looked grey. A pang went through him. Did she still mourn Lallerton?
For an instant their eyes met, and shock hit him as her gaze blanked. She hadn’t recognised him.
But would he have recognised her? The soft tawny curls were doubtless still there, hidden beneath the bonnet and cap. And her eyes—perhaps it was the grey of her gown, but he remembered them as more blue than grey. He remembered her face as vivid, expressive—not this blank mask with shuttered eyes. And she was thinner than he remembered.
He could have passed her in the street, even spoken to her, and not realised who she was. Yet now that he looked closely, in some strange way he did recognise her—as one sees the likeness between a waxwork doll and a friend.
The ache inside deepened. Had grief done this to her?
Thea’s breath jerked in as she realised that Lady Arnsworth had a gentleman with her.
The gentleman had risen and regarded her with a friendly smile on his face. She lifted her chin a little. Surely he was familiar … tall, a spare frame, dark brown hair, his face lined a little … no, it couldn’t be—
‘I am sure you both remember my nephew, Mr Richard Blakehurst.’
It was. Richard Blakehurst. Lady Arnsworth’s nephew and other godchild. Richard with his broken leg. As a boy he’d spent months here at Arnsworth House recovering after a riding accident that left it doubtful if he would ever walk again without the aid of crutches.
David was the first to speak, his voice coldly biting. ‘Blakehurst. I didn’t expect to see you here.’
Richard’s eyes narrowed at this chilly acknowledgement. ‘A mutual feeling, Winslow. How do you do?’
Eyes glittering, David strode forward and took the proffered hand.
‘Servant, Blakehurst.’ His tone suggested anything but cordiality.
Thea felt her cheeks burn. For heaven’s sake! Surely David did not imagine that Richard could possibly have joined the ranks of fortune hunters? Or that he could pose the least danger to her?
Seemingly unconcerned, Richard turned to her.
Swallowing hard, she nodded. ‘I … yes. I remember Mr Blakehurst. You are well, sir?’
The dark brows shot up. His eyes. She had forgotten how expressive they were. And she did not remember him as being quite so tall. Or the planes of his face to be so … so hard.
He inclined his head. ‘Very well, I thank you, Miss Winslow. Delighted to meet you again.’
Panic flooded her as he came towards her, hand outstretched. He was going to take her hand. He would touch her. And she had stripped off her gloves in the hall …
Richard. This is Richard … you knew him as a boy … She forced herself to stillness. But Richard Blakehurst was no longer a boy. Tall, broad-shouldered—despite the remaining halt in his stride, Richard was a man …
Deliberately she lifted her chin. She knew Richard; he had been her friend—it wouldn’t be too bad … Braced to withstand her usual panic, she held out her hand. A gentle vice gripped it. Her breath jerked in and caught as tingling warmth laced every nerve.
Their eyes met, his suddenly intent, even startled. She was wildly conscious of the strength of his long fingers. They tightened very slightly, as though staking a claim, and an instant later released her.
The sudden silence seemed to hum with awareness as she struggled to understand what had happened.
Lady Arnsworth bustled up. ‘Do sit down, dear Dorothea,’ she said. ‘How nice that Richard was here to meet you. It must be several years since you met.’
‘Eight, or … or thereabouts,’ Thea temporised, as she sat down. He had attended her come-out ball. Eight years ago, though his touch hadn’t seared her.
‘Of course,’ said Lady Arnsworth. She turned to her nephew. ‘Although I dare say, Richard, that you see Mr Winslow from time to time?’
‘Not often of late years,’ said Richard, resuming his seat.
Thea tried to listen, nodding occasionally, as Lady Arnsworth outlined all her plans for the Season, which were comprehensive to say the least.
Richard must be … two and thirty now, surely. He was about eight years older than she. He couldn’t really be any taller than she remembered. It just seemed that way for some reason. She flickered sideways glances at him, trying to understand what it was about him that was so different to her.
Lady Arnsworth continued to expound her campaign. Almack’s, of course. There could be not the least trouble in the world gaining vouchers …
Perhaps it was just that he was broader. Yes. That was it. He was a long way removed from the rather slight young man she remembered. She wondered if he still enjoyed chess … He had been a formidable opponent and she did not doubt that he was even more formidable now. Something about the calm self-contained gaze told her that. Still waters …
Only none of that explained why her whole body had seemed to shimmer and leap to life when he took her hand …
Lady Arnsworth preened a little as she listed the invitations they were likely to receive. Once people knew that dear Dorothea was at Arnsworth House, there would be invitations aplenty. And Lord Dunhaven had already left his card.
An odd choking noise came from Richard, and, glancing at him, Thea had the distinct impression that something had struck a jarring note with Mr Richard Blakehurst. His jaw bore a startling resemblance to solid stone.
A glance at David revealed his jaw in much the same condition, which was no surprise at all after what he had said about Lord Dunhaven as they crossed the Square.
Lady Arnsworth sailed on, listing all the more influential hostesses who would be aux anges to receive the Honourable Miss Winslow.
The Honourable, wealthy Miss Winslow. Lady Arnsworth didn’t bother to spell that out.
Mr Blakehurst’s fathomless gaze met hers over the rim of his glass. Thea forced herself not to look away, to keep her own expression blank … Richard had … had grown up. That was all. It had been surprise, nothing more. Nothing deeper.
Lady Arnsworth finished, ‘I don’t doubt we will be invited everywhere. Everyone will wish to make Dorothea’s acquaintance, you may be sure.’
‘Oh, without a doubt,’ said Mr Blakehurst. ‘How could it possibly be otherwise?’
Thea’s gaze narrowed at the faintly ironic tone, as a spurt of annoyance flared, swiftly suppressed. Control. She could not afford to betray anything.
Lady Arnsworth shot Richard a quelling glare and turned back to Thea.
‘Now, my dear,’ she said, ‘should you
