A Winter Scandal (29 page)

Thea had built up the fortitude to give the gift back to him once. She hadn’t the strength to do so again. She wanted the earrings, even if she never once put them on. It was enough to know, as Gabriel said, that he had given them to her. That he had chosen them because they reminded him of the highlights in her hair.

“Very well.” Thea slipped the small box into the pocket of her dress beneath her cloak. “I will keep them. Thank you.” She could feel tears threatening, but she pushed them back. “I will treasure your gift. Always.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed him.

His arms went around her tightly. They kissed again and again, hungry after the separation of the past two days. Thea strained up against him, frustrated by the thick layers of clothing between them. Obviously feeling the same way, Gabriel slid his hands beneath her cloak, moving them over her body.

With an oath, he lifted his mouth from hers. “If only there were a roof.” He kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck, interspersing the kisses between his words. “And a door. Just a bit more warmth.”

“I feel rather warm right now.”

“Sweet heavens, I would kill to get your clothes off right now,” he growled, digging his hands into the soft flesh of her buttocks and moving her hips against him. Thea could feel the stiff length of his manhood pressing into her flesh, and an answering heat started deep inside her. “There are the storerooms below here,” she suggested. “They were in the cellars, so, at least where the roofs haven’t fallen in, they are intact.”

“Really?” He raised his head in interest. “Where?”

She let out a little laugh and took his hand, leading him out of the room and down the stone walkway. At the end of the columns, a set of weathered stone steps led downward. Part of the cellar roof had collapsed, letting in enough light to see dimly. The corridor was small and musty. They peeked into the ruins of the first room, then moved down the hallway to the next opening.

“You see? It’s a room—and comparatively warm since we are belowground. It’s almost livable. Now, if only there were—” Thea stopped abruptly and turned to him as a sudden thought entered her head. She could see the same idea dawning in his eyes. “Do you think—”

“That someone could have taken shelter down here?” he finished.

Thea nodded, and they stared down the corridor. There was light at the other end, where much of the ruins had collapsed into the rooms below, creating an effective end to the cellars and lighting the nearby portions. But in the middle of the corridor between the two cave-ins, where the roof was still intact, it was quite gloomy. They would need more light if they were to see anything.

“There’s an old lantern in the back room of the church,” Thea offered.

It did not take them long to go to the church and return with a lamp. They walked down the old corridor, holding the lantern high and peering into each doorway they passed. In the third doorway, their light at last revealed something other than an empty earthen room.

Against one wall was a lumpy pile covered by a blanket, and another blanket lay in a heap at one end. A small, flat-topped rock stood beside the crude bed, and on top of the rock was a saucer with the stub of a candle. A jug sat a foot or two away from the bed, and a pail was in one corner of the room. A piece of crust lay on the floor before them. Clearly, someone had been living there.

“Could it have been your sister?” Thea asked.

“It would certainly explain why no one saw her. But I cannot imagine Jocelyn living here—even for a day or two.” Gabriel shook his head and backed out of the room. “We might as well check the rest of the place while we are about it.”

At the end of the hallway, where the ceiling and walls had collapsed into a jumble, with nothing above them but the sky, they found the remains of a small campfire. Gabriel poked thoughtfully at the ashes with the tip of his boot.

“How could Jocelyn have done all this? Made a fire? Lived so primitively? She never even dressed without the help of a maid.”

“It wasn’t necessarily your sister who was living here.”

“True. But I have little faith in coincidences.”

“Do you think she is still living here? Perhaps if we waited …”

Gabriel shook his head. “Whoever was here, they’ve not been around for at least two days. The snow around the cloisters was untouched, remember? No human tracks.”

“You are right.”

“I shall set a man to keep an eye on it. We could put up a little shelter at a distance and keep watch with a spyglass, just in case someone does return. But I think Jocelyn came to Chesley only to leave Matthew. Perhaps she stayed long enough to make sure he was placed in my hands. But it seems clear that, if my sister was ever here, she has long since departed.”

Sixteen

T
hea spent the next few
days refurbishing her wardrobe. She pulled the light blue dress that had once been her favorite out of the chest to which she had relegated it and set to altering the gown to better suit today’s styles. It took a bit of work to lower the waistline and narrow its lines, but with the extra material from those alterations she added a flirty little ruffle at the hem. She attached the new blue ribbon as a sash, which not only added a little brightness but also covered her less-than-expert re-sewing of the waistline. Hopefully no one would recognize the old dress after its modifications, and even if someone did, it didn’t matter. Gabriel had never seen it, and it was prettier than anything else she currently owned.

Once that was done, she did what she could for her other clothes, adding a bit of lace or ribbon to one gown or another. She even went up in the attic and searched through the trunks of old clothes, finding a clump of bright red wooden cherries on an old bonnet, which she added for a splash of color to her dark blue winter hat.

She could not help but wish for an elegant dress for Damaris’s upcoming Twelfth Night party. She had no desire to wear the same dull evening gown she had worn to the Cliffes’ Christmas ball. The haberdashery in Bynford might have a bolt of cloth that would do for an evening gown, and she would have enough time to sew one if she worked diligently. Thea did not consider herself a good seamstress, but she thought she could make up for her lack of skill with determination, which she possessed in abundance. Daniel had given her money as a Christmas present, which she had planned to save for books, but now she thought a ball gown would be infinitely preferable.

It would be a long and chilly journey over to the haberdashery in Bynford in her brother’s pony trap, and she was sure that Daniel would find the reason frivolous. But it occurred to her that Damaris might be interested in such a trip. With that in mind, she set out for her friend’s house the next morning.

She found Damaris’s household in a frenzy of activity. Rugs were being rolled up and carried outside to be beaten, silver was being polished and crystal washed, and every nook and cranny was being scrubbed.

Thea commented on the bustle as Damaris led her into the smaller upstairs sitting room. Damaris chuckled. “Yes. I think my butler and housekeeper are vying to outdo one another. Greeves hired two extra footmen, and Mrs. Clemmons countered that she must have as many new maids. Then, of course, they had to prove that they had ample use for all of them. So they are turning the house inside out cleaning and polishing. I have been driven up here if I hope to have any peace. And they have not yet begun to decorate.”

“I am sure that everything will look lovely for the party. Have you received the stationer’s cards for the characters?”

“Oh, yes, I must show them to you. I shall allow you to have first choice of who you wish to be.” She brought out the box, and the two of them bent their heads over the cards, chuckling over the names and discussing the merits of the characters.

“Dame Veracity would be far too dangerous for me,” Thea told her. “I hate to think what might leave my lips, given that temptation.”

“I had thought of adopting Lady Vanity,” Damaris responded. “I could go about the entire evening with a hand mirror, admiring myself. But I decided that was unfair; ’tis far too fun a character to take for myself. I thought Jack Mischief would suit Sir Myles.”

“Yes.” Thea laughed. “He would play it to the hilt, I am sure.”

“There is nothing called Lord Handsome, unfortunately; that would suit your Lord Morecombe perfectly.”

Thea glanced at her, startled, and hoped that her cheeks would not begin to color. “Not
my
Lord Morecombe, surely.”

“I hear of him calling at no one else’s house.”

“Well …” Thea was sure she was blushing now. “He comes to visit the baby.”

“Of course.” Her friend sent her a droll look, but dropped the subject, saying, “I have the perfect one for Prince Arrogant. Lord Rawdon, don’t you think?”

“You invited him to your party?” Thea asked in surprise.

“Daniel mentioned it at the Christmas dinner, and it seemed rude not to invite the man.” Damaris shrugged. “He did manage not to hit anyone that day—although I must say, it looked like a near thing between him and Morecombe.”

“Their relationship is … complicated.”

“So I gathered. Is he really Matthew’s father?”

“I think not, despite their looks.” Thea shook her head.

“I understand—it is not your tale to tell.”

“You’re right,” Thea responded, grateful for her friend’s social acumen. “In any case, I do not think Lord Rawdon will be here for the party. Morecombe told me that he had left town.”

“Oh.”

Thea was surprised to see that her friend looked a trifle crestfallen. “Are you sorry? I would have thought you would have been relieved.”

“Well, he does seem to be a rather … unsettling guest to have at one’s party,” Damaris agreed, with a mischievous grin. “But, then, he would add a certain element of excitement. And he is handsome.”

“You think he’s handsome?” Thea was again surprised.

“Why, yes. Do you not?” Damaris looked back at Thea in equal surprise.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Thea considered the notion. Lord Rawdon could hardly compare to Gabriel’s vivid dark looks, of course, but she could see how some women might be attracted to him. “He
is
very unusual. Such pale hair and those light blue eyes.”

“Yes, but his eyes are bright, as well—they make me think of the center of a fire, where it is hottest. I imagine he is a hard man to lie to.”

“No doubt.”

“I wouldn’t say he is a comfortable man, mind you,” Damaris said with a smile. “But he has a very arresting sort of face.”

“Damaris! Do you
like
Lord Rawdon?”

Damaris laughed. “Goodness, no. I don’t think he is the sort of man one
likes,
do you? But he is … interesting. Still, I suspect the party will do quite well without his presence.”

“I am sure it will. I was thinking of making a new gown for it.” Thea smiled at her friend. “I have to confess I had an ulterior motive for coming to call on you today. I hoped that you might be interested in a trip to the haberdashery in Bynford one day this week. They had some bolts of material that might do for an evening dress.”

“Of course I would be interested. I had been thinking of making a trip to Cheltenham if the weather permitted. It would be marvelous if you would accompany me. But I have a better idea for your gown. I thought of it on Christmas, but I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I want to give you one of my ball gowns. All it would take is a bit of alteration, and my Edith can make any changes it needs.”

Thea demurred, but Damaris was adamant, taking her by the hand and pulling her down the hall to Damaris’s chamber. She rang for her maid, and the woman soon pulled out the dress in question and laid it across the bed. Thea sucked in her breath. The sleek gown of dark red satin was at once luxurious yet gracefully simple.

“Oh, Damaris … this is lovely. But, surely you would want to wear it?”

The other woman shook her head. “I have a gown of peacock blue—which perfectly matches my mask, so I must wear that. I have only worn this gown once. Truthfully, ’tis not the best shade for me. It is more on the rust side of red, and I look better in a bluish tone of that color. That is why I thought of you; it is perfect with your hair. Only look.”

Damaris gestured toward her maid, who quickly held the gown up to Thea’s shoulders and turned her toward the mirror. Thea looked at herself and felt a sudden, almost physical hunger for this gown. Damaris was right. The deep red, with its amber undertone, picked out the reddish highlights of her brown hair and warmed her skin. She could not help but think, too, how perfectly the garnets Gabriel had given her would match the dress. Not, of course, that she would wear the earrings; it would be improper, even if no one knew that Gabriel had given them to her.

“But this is far too valuable.” Thea wrapped her arm around the waist of the dress even as she made her demurral, with her other hand holding the neckline up to her chest. Edith, the maid, stepped aside quickly, leaving Thea to gaze at her reflection alone. “And you might want to wear it some other time.”

“No, I don’t think I will. It truly does not suit me, so it will just languish in the back of my wardrobe.”

Thea cast another look at herself and added reluctantly, “But it is red. It wouldn’t be appropriate, really.”

“To wear red?” Damaris’s eyebrows shot upward, and a faint look of hauteur touched her face. “
I
wore it. Do you think that it was improper of me?”

“No, you goose, and you needn’t put on that aristocratic look for my benefit,” Thea retorted. “I am sure you looked absolutely lovely in it, and I doubt anyone thought anything wrong with it. But you are not the vicar’s sister. They will say it is scandalous for me to wear such a dress. And they will say the neckline is too low.”

“They, they, they …” Damaris said crossly, coming over to stand by her friend. She looped her arm around Thea’s shoulders and looked into the mirror, too. “Who cares what they say? It wouldn’t be anyone but some old tabby who is green with jealousy, that is all. What matters, my dear, is what Lord Morecombe will say when he sees it.”

“Oh, Damaris …” Thea met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “I can’t … I mean, I don’t … I
won’t
think that way.”

“Why ever not?” Damaris turned sideways to look at her friend. “Really, Thea, anyone with two eyes can see that his lordship is smitten with you.”

“No, truly, I am sure he is not. I—I have helped him, and he is concerned about Matthew and grateful, I’m sure, for my taking care of Matthew.”

“What a bag of moonshine. I hope you do not think I would believe such nonsense.” Damaris peered more closely into Thea’s face. “Do not tell me
you
actually believe that! Thea … a man like Morecombe does not dance attendance on a woman because she tends to a baby who may or may not be his sister’s illegitimate child. He can hire someone to look after the baby—indeed, he has hired a nursemaid, has he not?”

“Yes.”

“Why has he not taken the baby back to his house, as he was going to? Mrs. Clemmons told me he hired the first housekeeper she recommended to him, and the housekeeper has already hired three maids. Lady Wofford is in residence there now, so his household is perfectly respectable, even if she is a bit of a snob. Lolly and young Matthew could move to his house today if he wanted.”

“He agrees that Matthew would be happier with me.”

“No doubt Matthew is. But I suspect the reason is more that Lord Morecombe does not wish to cause
you
unhappiness. Not to mention the fact that it gives the man a grand excuse to call on you—as he has done each and every day for over a week now.”

Thea felt herself blushing at her friend’s blunt words. “I will admit that Gabriel has expressed an interest in me.”

“I knew it!” Damaris grinned, her eyes twinkling.

“But it isn’t in any permanent way. It cannot be. Oh, Damaris, don’t you see? I cannot allow myself to hope!”

“But, darling, why not?” Damaris grabbed Thea’s hands and squeezed them.

“I am not the sort of woman a man like Lord Morecombe marries!” Thea said in an anguished voice.

“Why not? Thea, dear, your name is quite respectable. Why, you are cousin to an earl—an earl whose son is Morecombe’s friend, as well. You’ve no scandalous past or skeletons in your closet. You haven’t a gaggle of impecunious relatives who will cling to him like leeches or mad uncles locked up in your attic. And Morecombe hardly needs you to bring him a large dowry.”

“Damaris … I am plain! I am fine to … to flirt with while Morecombe is in the country for a few weeks. But he will go back to the beautiful ladies of the
ton
. In a few days, I will be forgotten. Gabriel will marry someone sophisticated and lovely, the sort of woman meant to be Lady Morecombe. Not a dowdy spinster from the Cotswolds.”

“Thea! Look in this mirror.” Damaris turned Thea toward the mirror again, pulling her closer to the looking glass. “Obviously, Lord Morecombe does not find you plain. There are several girls of low station whom he could flirt with—and more—if that was all he wanted. If you will remember, everyone in Chesley was chattering about the fact that he was doing exactly that. He was not lonely for female companionship. He did not need to seek you out merely to keep him occupied until he returned to London. He chose to be with you. He sought you out. And he is, as you pointed out, a man well acquainted with the beauties of the
ton
. He is, I venture to say, a connoisseur of female beauty. Why would you not believe his judgment regarding your looks?”

Thea gazed, wide-eyed, into the mirror. Looking at herself now, she had to admit that she was more attractive than she had thought. Something about her was softer and more pliant, and her face had a glow that she had never before seen. The body that had always been gawky now seemed to have a certain grace. Perhaps she did not have the tempting curves of Damaris beside her, but Thea now realized that her long limbs had their own sort of appeal. After all, Gabriel had told her so—not just with words, but with his desire. Perhaps some of the difference in her was attributable to the changes she had made in hairstyle or clothes, but Thea realized that something more was involved. Happiness, emotion, confidence, had all added an indefinable allure. And maybe, just maybe, she thought, before this she had not looked at herself through impartial eyes. She had never really
seen
herself.

Not as the vicar’s daughter, the vicar’s sister, the plain contrast to Veronica’s beauty. But simply as Thea. A woman completely separate from all those things. And deserving of her own separate life.

She turned to Damaris, an impish grin spreading across her face. “You know … I think a red dress might be just what I want after all.”