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 like to go up to your bedchamber and rest? Dinner will not be for some time, but perhaps some tea on a tray?’
Another strangled noise came from Richard, but, ignoring this, Lady Arnsworth smiled graciously at David. ‘And I am sure, Mr Winslow, that you will wish to inform Lord Aberfield that Dorothea is safely with me. My nephew will see you out. I shall bid you farewell now.’
Chapter Two
There was something distinctly strained about Richard’s voice as he assured Lady Arnsworth that he would not be in the least put out, but Thea had no time to ponder on it as she bid David farewell, and Lady Arnsworth led her from the room.
All along the upper hallway, Lady Arnsworth waxed lyrical about the joys of London. Especially for ‘ … a young lady as well-dowered as you, dear Dorothea!’
Thea could not repress a chill, remembering how people clustered around heiresses. Gentlemen, smiling, pretending affection, while all the time … She pushed the thought away. She would manage perfectly well once she was accustomed.
Except—’I … ma’am, I would really rather not have dozens of suitors tripping over themselves. After all—’
After all, what? What can you possibly tell her that would convince her you don’t want a husband?
Lady Arnsworth opened the door to the bedchamber, an arrested expression on her face. ‘Dozens of suitors?’
It was as though the idea had never occurred to her.
Thea flushed. Was she that much of an antidote these days? ‘Well, fortune hunters,’ she said, following her godmother across the threshold.
A maidservant was already putting her belongings away.
‘Fortune hunters? Oh, dear me, no! There will be nothing like that.’
And the sun might rise in the west. ‘There won’t?’
‘Oh, no … now I am sure you will be perfectly comfortable in this chamber. And don’t worry about fortune hunters. You may trust me to see to that. Why, the very idea! The maid will have your things unpacked in no time,’ she said. ‘And if there is anything you require, of course you must tell me.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Thea politely. ‘Er, you seem very certain about the fortune hunters.’
‘Ah, the girl has finished.’ Lady Arnsworth flipped her hand at the maid. ‘That will be all.’
The maid dropped a curtsy and left. Lady Arnsworth turned back to Thea.
‘My dear, what a sensible girl you are!’ Her ladyship was all smiles as she took Thea’s hand. ‘While naturally your circumstances will attract a certain amount of attention, you may rest assured that as your sponsor and chaperon, I shall be most careful to ensure that only the most eligible suitors are brought to your notice. Two, perhaps three at the most should be quite sufficient.’
Thea blinked as Lady Arnsworth patted her hand and repressed a shiver at even that simple touch. Two or three? What would her ladyship think if she knew that Thea didn’t want any suitors?
She tried. ‘As to that, ma’am, I have no thought of marriage. I … I find the whole idea … that is—’ Her throat tightened.
Lady Arnsworth looked away and fiddled with her rings, turning them to better display the stones. ‘Ah, yes. Your father did mention that—
‘Of course, such things are not quite unknown.’ There was something very odd in her voice, not quite distaste … She met Thea’s puzzled gaze. ‘Generally one does not approve, but under the circumstances—and your fortune is considerable. I am sure you need not worry.’ She fussed with her cuffs, still avoiding Thea’s shocked gaze.
Thea said nothing to this, but gripped her underlip hard between her teeth.
‘Naturally your years of, er, mourning have given you ample time for reflection.’
‘They certainly have,’ said Thea, finding her voice.
Looking far more at ease, Lady Arnsworth said carefully, ‘Indeed your feelings are quite understandable. I found the marriage act most unpleasant myself. But it is our duty. And once you have done your duty and provided the heir—and a spare, of course—if you wish it, most gentlemen will respect a lady’s natural modesty and seek their pleasures elsewhere for the most part. Men, of course, are different. Very different. Now, I must change. I will be out this evening, but tomorrow we will have to do some shopping.’ She cast a pained glance at Thea’s travelling dress. ‘Yes. A new wardrobe is of the first importance! I venture to suggest that you will feel very different when properly gowned!’
And with that, Lady Arnsworth whisked herself out of the room.
Staring at the closed door, Thea faced the fact that her father had told Lady Arnsworth the truth. Or at least the truth as he saw it. And she had the oddest notion that it had not been the fifty thousand pounds that had tipped the balance for Almeria Arnsworth … although that would certainly be the case with most of society. She felt sick to her stomach, thinking of the next couple of months to be spent in the full glare of society and its crowding, jostling throng … all of whom would turn on her if they knew the truth … From nowhere panic ambushed her, sinking familiar claws deep. Her stomach clenched, warding off the striking terror. She forced her body to relax, her lungs to draw breath steadily, blanking her mind. And as suddenly it was gone, a chill warning, leaving her cold and shaking, but free and rational. Free to wonder if she had been completely insane to imagine that she could do this.
As the drawing room door clicked behind Almeria and her houseguest, Richard throttled the urge to swear resoundingly. He could only marvel at the neatness of the trap, as he sat down. A trap compounded of his own good manners. The same good manners that would keep him from strangling his godmother when she returned. Very well, he was fond of Almeria too, and she was family.
‘Quite a coincidence that you are here to greet my sister, Blakehurst,’ remarked David in biting accents.
Richard’s normally even temper flickered. ‘Just so,’ he said. ‘Do take a seat again, Winslow.’
Perhaps
