The Outrageous Debutante (11 page)

‘You are too cynical, sir. And superior. I like it very well. It reminds me of one of Mrs Radcliffe’s Gothic novels. All the caves and waterfalls. I have never seen so many temples and pavilions and rotundas, all in one place, in my life. Even you must admit to the lamps in the trees being very pretty, my lord.’

‘I will admit nothing.’

‘I suppose that you prefer the rustic and natural delights of
your manor at Aymestry.’ Thea angled a glance in arched enquiry, having heard something of the delights of Lord Nicholas’s home.

‘Perhaps I do.’

‘I would wish to see it.’ Her gaze within its silver frame remained steady on his.

‘And I would wish to show it to you.’ A little silence lengthened between them, until Nicholas took himself in hand. ‘But that aside, the lights here hide a multitude of sins.’

‘Perhaps. But I will not allow you to spoil the evening by drawing attention to it!’

He hesitated again, the length of a breath. ‘I would not wish to do so. That would never be my intent.’

‘I know it.’ And although she spread her fan with a flirtatious turn of her wrist, he could not mistake the solemn appraisal in her eyes, before she turned to answer a query from Lady Beatrice, formidable if incongruous in her deep purple domino.

After supper the younger members of the party dispersed to stroll down the lamp-lit walks, assuring Lady Beatrice and a reluctant Lady Drusilla that they would most certainly remain within sight and sound of Agnes Drew, their designated chaperon for the occasion. But it was clearly destined for Lord Nicholas to draw Miss Wooton-Devereux’s hand through his arm, just as it was astonishingly easy for them to lose their companions in the deeply shadowed pathways.

‘Which do you prefer, lady. Dark Walk or Druids Walk?’ he enquired as they came to a parting of the ways.

‘Definitely Druids. Do you think we might see some after all these hundreds of years? Lurking in the groves of Vauxhall with their oak leaves and mistletoe.’

‘I doubt it—but let us try.’ He guided her along the appropriate path.

‘But we may hear nightingales, I expect.’ She slanted a look.

‘I have arranged it specially for you, lady.’

He sensed her smile in the darkness. They strolled in silence for some little way.

‘It appears that we have lost our companions,’ Theodora commented.

‘So it would seem.’ Nicholas came to a halt and turned to face her. ‘Your mama would not approve.’

‘No. She would not.’ It did not seem to trouble Theodora unduly.

The night enclosed them in deep silence, the scents of earth and flowers, soft but intense. Every sense was heightened. Nicholas could catch the perfume that Theodora wore, was supremely aware of the light touch of her fingers on his arm. When he raised a hand to loosen the strings of her mask she made no resistance.

‘Well, Miss Wooton-Devereux. I should never have known it to be you.’ He removed his own mask.

‘Your disguise was perfect, my lord.’

He bent his head and kissed her. A brush of lips against lips, soft as a sigh. Then he raised his head to look at her. ‘I should not have done that.’ A sardonic smile touched his austere features.

‘Did you not wish to do so, my lord?’

‘Why … Yes. I did. Very much.’ It was an admission to himself as much as to the lady.

‘And I should not have allowed it.’ Obviously a night for admissions.

He kissed her again, savouring the warm softness of her lips as he increased the pressure. She was quite irresistible.

And Theodora was breathless. ‘I am very glad that you did. How forward I am tonight! There is no hope for me. My reputation will be quite ruined.’

‘Do you often allow gentlemen to kiss you?’ Nicholas found himself asking. Part humour, part unease at her flippancy. Her answer suddenly mattered very much.

Serious, deadly serious, Theodora raise a hand to touch his lips ‘Oh, no. Not at all. Do you often kiss ladies in Vauxhall Gardens, my lord?’

Well, he had deserved that, had he not?

‘Certainly not! So, since neither of us is in the general way of kissing other people … I will kiss you again, Theodora, if it pleases you.’

‘Yes, Nicholas, it does.’

So he did. His hands tightened over the silk at her shoulders, to draw her closer so that his arms could enfold, his lips take possession. Still persuasive against her soft mouth, still gentle, a promise rather than a demand. But he felt her shiver against him. And Theodora could think of nothing but the incredible sensation of being kissed until sparkling bubbles raced through her blood, as fine as any of the champagne she had drunk that night. Was aware of nothing but the heat that spread its fingers from the region of her heart to every extremity. Her experience of life had never prepared her for anything such as this. If she were breathless before, now she was positively light-headed.

Much as Lord Nicholas was stunned by his reaction to this delightful creature who melted into his embrace and returned his kisses with such sweetness. He wanted her. Wanted to touch her. Wanted her for his own. He thought it would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with her.

Which exactly mirrored Theodora’s thoughts.

Her mother would indeed have been horrified.

‘W
e need to talk, Hector.’

Because his wife, always an exemplary diplomat’s wife, rarely interrupted him when he had urgent business to complete, Sir Hector put down his pen and held out his hand in welcome to Lady Drusilla. She had come to a halt just inside the door of the library in Upper Brook Street.

‘What is it, my love? I thought you were already gone—I forget where, but somewhere with Thea.’

‘No. I have sent Thea off with Lady Beatrice and Judith. I need to talk with you and it would be better if Thea were not here.’

‘Very well.’ Sir Hector now saw the strain on his wife’s face, so immediately rose to his feet and approached to draw her into the room. ‘What has happened to put such a heavy line between your brows.’ He rubbed at it with his thumb in a quaint gesture of deep affection. ‘Is it Thea? What has she done now?’

‘No, it is not Thea—well, yes, it is, in a way.’ Drusilla caught her bottom lip with her teeth and sighed as if at the culmination of much painful thought. ‘We have to tell her, Hector.’

‘Hmm!’ Hector drew his wife to sit beside him on the sofa before the empty fire grate. ‘But why?’ It was clear that he knew beyond question the cause of her distress and the meaning behind her enigmatic statement. ‘We have kept it close for so
long—all of twenty-one years. As you wished. Why stir up the mud in that particular pond now?’

‘I know I wanted it,’ Drusilla admitted. She looked down at their clasped hands and held tight. ‘Because she is
our
daughter. She is ours—yours and mine—in upbringing, in character, in education—and in love. What does blood matter? I love her so much, Hector.’ Tears began to track their path down her cheeks and she was unable to stifle a sob.

Hector sought in his pockets and began to apply his handkerchief with great tenderness. ‘I know that you love her, Drusilla. As do I. No one could have been a better mother than you—and no daughter could be such a credit to our love and care. So, as I said—why has it become so imperative to break silence now?’ His voice was all gentleness, but she was not soothed.

‘Because it is becoming too dangerous
not
to tell her.’

‘I don’t see …’

‘I think … I believe that Thea is falling in love with him. And he with her.’

Sir Hector frowned a little at what was obviously news to him. ‘I thought your preference was fixed on the Earl of Moreton.’

‘It is what I might prefer—all that wealth and consequence rather than a younger son—but Thea thinks only of Lord Nicholas Faringdon. I fear that the Earl does not compare favourably. And, in truth, I cannot blame her. Lord Nicholas has such address, such style. And is so very handsome. What young woman would not lose her heart to him—particularly when he has clearly set himself out to attract.’

‘Drusilla! Are you as captivated as our daughter?’

‘If I were twenty years younger, you would have serious competition, sir!’ She managed a wan smile through her tears. ‘You must acknowledge—he has considerable charm.’

‘Mmm.’ Sir Hector smiled in reply, quite sure of Drusilla’s heart. ‘And you think that it is more than a superficial attraction? Surely not, my dear. She has known him less than a month, after all.’

‘What does that signify?
I
fell in love with
you
in less than twenty-four hours after I met you at the Pakenhams’ ball. But that
is of no consequence. I think that Thea is fast losing her heart. Whether she acknowledges it fully to herself, I am not sure. But she is very like me.’ Drusilla took the damp square of linen from her husband and wiped away more tears. ‘When she gives her heart, it will be without reserve. And I am very much afraid that her heart could be broken as a result.’ She looked up at her husband. ‘I don’t want that for her. I would do anything to spare her pain. I had hoped to deflect this friendship—to stop it developing beyond a mere acquaintance—but I failed. There is a … a feeling between them—it is so strong that you can sometimes feel it when they are in the same room together. I see it in his eyes when he looks at her—and in hers, too.’

Sir Hector looked skeptical, but did not demur. Then, ‘It may not come to anything, of course,’ he considered after a moment’s thought.

‘Oh, Hector. He sends her posies of flowers. He takes her driving in the Park. He brought her a copy of Dr Clark’s
Russia
, which apparently she expressed a desire to read, and yesterday he took her to the British Museum because she declared an interest in seeing the Parthenon Marbles. Does that not sound like a man in love to you?’

‘He must be, by God!’

‘
You
took
me
to an exhibition of minerals and fossils when you were trying to fix your interest with me!’ she recalled with some asperity. ‘And you loved me!’

‘So I did. And have loved you ever since!’ He kissed her damp cheeks. ‘But look, Drusilla—would it really matter if we did not tell her? Would the truth ever have to come out? It was never a secret as such, but it has been of interest to no one but ourselves for more than twenty years. If no one has bothered to make the issue, why in Heaven’s name should they do so now?’

‘Because, until now, nothing has brought it to mind. But if there was an understanding to grow between Thea and Lord Nicholas, it might bring old memories to life. What if someone who knows the truth—and there must be members of the family who do—what if they make the connection and speak out?’
Drusilla’s lips thinned into a bitter line. ‘It would not have mattered at all, of course, if it had not been for that terrible scandal here in London when we were in Constantinople. Hector—you must see what could now occur if tongues start to wag.’

‘It is always possible,’ he agreed, but still not convinced. ‘Did you not think of that possibility when you engaged the help of Beatrice Faringdon?’

‘No. I did not. Perhaps I should—but when Beatrice offered her kind auspices to introduce Thea into society, I did not expect Thea to fall in love with her nephew!’

‘Well, Faringdon is a man of sense from my reading of him. And if he loves Theodora I do not see the problem. She would be merely an innocent party in all this.’

‘Are you prepared to take that chance?’

‘I just don’t see that he could blame her for anything other than a blood connection. And one of which she knew nothing.’

‘But if the hatred were strong enough, and sufficiently long-lasting, Nicholas could equally condemn Thea. Can you imagine if he were driven to turn from her in disgust? It would break her heart! We dare not risk it, Hector.’

‘We could, of course, just forbid her to develop the connection further.’ The experienced diplomat, ever willing to consider all angles in an area of difficult negotiation, raised his brows in some speculation.

‘Ha!’ Drusilla was not impressed. Her husband sometimes thought that his reputation was as dust beneath her feet. ‘Sometimes, Hector, I do believe that you have no knowledge or understanding of your daughter. To forbid would be fatal in these circumstances. And to reason with her … She is always open to reason, as I know—but when does reason carry weight if love is in the balance?’

He took her in his arms as tears threatened once more. ‘There now, Drusilla. Don’t cry again.’ He held her close, his heart troubled as his mind mulled over the possible repercussions for Theodora. ‘Then I suppose that we must tell her.’

‘Yes.’ She nodded against his chest. ‘It will allow her to end
this understanding between them before further damage is done. Before her heart is engaged irrevocably.’

Drusilla stood with a final brisk application of Sir Hector’s handkerchief and walked to the door, her habitual composure once more in place. There she halted and turned on a final thought.

‘Because there is one fact in this whole sorry mess of which we are certain,’ he informed her husband. ‘After Sir Edward Baxendale’s devious and despicable behaviour, Lord Nicholas Faringdon will have nothing good to say about anyone with the name of Baxendale.’

Had her parents but known it, Thea’s heart was already lost. Lord Nicholas Faringdon had fixed his interest with her with considerable success. From that very first moment when their eyes had locked as he forced her mount to a standstill, Thea had been aware of Nicholas Faringdon with disturbing intensity. His proximity, the mere anticipation of seeing him at some point during the day, of perhaps feeling the brush of his lips against her fingers, all spread a warm tingle of longing through her bloodstream. And what if he were tempted to repeat that more intimate touch of mouth against mouth. Her breath shortened. How scandalous! How delicious! The longing tightened as a band around her heart.

When, later that morning on her return to the house, Thea was requested by a footman to attend her parents in the library, she found nothing out of the way. They had always been a family who had talked together. But the serious and solemn expressions on their faces, their unified stance before the window, brought her up short. They had not been admiring the view.