not far and I’ll be halfway to the inn by the time the carriage is ready.”
Before he could say another word, Thea was out the door and walking across the terrace as fast as her dignity would allow until she reached the steps leading to the garden. Then her dignity gave way to excited relief and she broke into a most unladylike run.
Once out of the formal garden with its trimmed hedges and into the wilder wood bordering Sir Develin’s estate, she stopped to catch her breath, leaning against an ancient oak where she couldn’t be seen from the manor house. The very large manor house with its stone carving and that paneled room that seemed to embody the ancient and noble family that resided within.
But it was not of the garden, or the house, or the furnishings or the wood that Thea was thinking.
“He agreed!” she whispered, not quite able to believe what had just happened. “He agreed!”
She was going to be married to a rich and titled man. She would never live a life of poverty and want, cold and hunger, ever again. Even better, she didn’t have to resort to the plan she’d prepared if Sir Develin had refused.
And he’d done more than simply agree. Her fingers went to her lips that he had kissed with such passion. It was as if he actually found her desirable, and when she thought about their wedding night...
It would be wise not to think about that too much, she told herself as she pushed off from the tree and walked rapidly toward the village.
He could, after all, change his mind.
* * *
By the time Dev reached the French doors, Lady Theodora had disappeared into the morning mist like some kind of sprite or other supernatural being.
Maybe she was, he thought as he turned away. A vision conjured up by his guilt and remorse. Or perhaps he was feeling this combination of confusion and excitement because he’d never before met a more bold and determined woman, or one who kissed with such unbridled, unstudied passion.
He crossed to the table bearing the brandy bottle and glasses and poured himself a drink. Now that Sir John’s daughter was no longer there, with her big gray eyes and distracting, tempting lips, he could surely think more rationally.
She was right about his feeling of being on display in a shop. It had reached the state where he dreaded going to balls and parties. Her other arguments in favor of the marriage she proposed were well taken, too. And how many men were offered the chance to be married and yet still live the life of a bachelor?
Her unexpected, undeniable passion was a point in her favor as well. She had responded not with the practiced ease of his former lovers, but with a guileless desire that increased his own.
Yet what would his friends and the rest of the ton say if he appeared with a bride nobody knew and who many wouldn’t consider beautiful? They wouldn’t necessarily notice her shining, shrewd eyes, lithe and shapely body or soft, full lips.
His solicitor would surely think he’d lost his head and a doctor should be summoned.
He glanced again at the portrait of his father over the mantelpiece. That judgmental gentleman would have had Lady Theodora cast out of the house and the dogs set on her the moment she revealed who she was. He would have been completely unmoved by the look of desperate yearning that had crept into Lady Theodora’s large, luminous eyes as she waited for his answer to his proposal, a look that not only appealed to his honor, but touched his lonely heart.
Dev downed another drink, then wandered toward the French doors, looking out at the sodden garden again. At this time of year, no flowers bloomed, so the only greenery came from the neatly trimmed hedges and cedar border, and the wood beyond. It seemed like his life—merely existing while waiting for the warmth of spring and summer.
Putting aside such fanciful thoughts, he contemplated what he ought to do. Marrying Lady Theodora would assuage the guilt he’d been carrying ever since he let his pride, his need to win at all costs, keep him at the gaming table in spite of Sir John’s growing panic and despair.
But did he have to pay for that mistake by binding himself to a woman he didn’t love or even know?
Let Lady Theodora fend for herself. She certainly seemed capable enough.
After all, as he had said, her father could have left the gaming table. She wasn’t his responsibility and never had been and need never be.
Except...
He had agreed.
And the die had been cast, although not that morning when Lady Thea appeared and made that unexpected proposal. He had cast it himself the night he gambled with Sir John Markham.
And cheated.
“Can I get you anything, miss? Some bread and butter? A cup of tea, perhaps?” the servant girl asked Thea the next morning as she sat by the window in the main room of the inn overlooking the yard.
It was a large chamber and comfortable, with wide chairs and a fire blazing in the hearth—comfortable, provided you weren’t waiting to discover what your future would be. Or if you were not the object of curious stares and whispers, as Thea had been since she arrived on the coach from London two days before, alone and with only a small valise. It would surely cause more talk when—if—Sir Develin arrived and she left with him.
“No, thank you,” Thea replied to the plump young woman. The maidservant’s hair was messily tied in a loose bun. Her dress and apron were clean and neat, though.
Thea was glad she had so much experience keeping her expression placid. The ability had stood her in good stead with angry merchants and landlords for many a year and had proven rather impressive at curtailing gossip, or the persistent inquiries of curious people.
The young woman nodded at the hearth. “Maybe you’d rather wait by the fire.”
Thea shook her head. “No, thank you.” She preferred to stay where she was, watching the yard for any arriving carriages.
“We’re not expecting any coaches for some time yet,” the servant girl noted. “You are waiting for a coach, aren’t you? To go back to Liverpool? Or London maybe?”
Thea wasn’t about to tell her where she was bound. After all, she wasn’t really sure herself. In spite of what Sir Develin had said the day before, he might not keep his word.
When Thea didn’t reply, the maid frowned, then shrugged and mercifully went away, leaving Thea to watch the activity in the yard. Although the day was getting off to a cool and misty start, the yard was already a-bustle with grooms, stable boys and servants mucking out the stable or washing down the cobbles, filling the trough and bringing wood to the kitchen. Steam issued from the door of an outbuilding Thea assumed was the laundry—judging by the huge baskets of linen being carried there by strong-armed maidservants—any time it was opened. A cart full of large milk cans arrived and unloaded at the dairy, where a glimpse inside showed at least one young woman churning. A fishmonger came next, with baskets of freshwater fish and eels. The cook, wiping his hands on his apron, came out to appraise his offerings.
Then,
