The Outrageous Debutante (15 page)

As for her attention-seeking perambulation around the Park in unacceptably exotic costume, and her scandalous flouting of convention by daring to walk down St James’s Street, leaving herself open to being ogled by any man on the strut—she must have known that such behaviour would ruin her reputation. No. He wanted no more breath of scandal in his life. She was welcome to the Earl of Moreton, if that was what she wanted. And the Earl was welcome to her!

It struck him as he descended the stairs on his way to Brooks’s that he had had quite enough of London. There was nothing to keep him here but pride—which would ensure that he remain for a little longer. He would not be seen to run from a connection that he had deliberately sought. But pride and self-control would keep him well out of Miss Theodora Wooton-Devereux’s manipulative orbit. There was no need for him to consider her ever again.

So Nicholas stayed on for a few days. Keeping his mind closed to his motives, he made sure that he was seen squiring other eligible débutantes in his curricle in Hyde Park, at private parties and at Almack’s. He even went so far as to organise another small party for an evening among the pleasures at Vauxhall Gardens, but deliberately did not invite Miss Theodora Wooton-Devereux, who would find out about it eventually from Judith, of course. And be hurt.

He found no interest in kissing anyone in the shadowed groves of Druids Walk!

After which superb show of indifference, Nicholas would go home to Aymestry Manor, and Burford Hall. But all he could see was a tall, slender, fair-haired lady who had enticed and then rejected him, leaving an ache in the region of his heart. Love? Of course not. Simply a mild interest, which would pass and the ache with it!

It had before.

It would again.

Theodora saw the results of her campaigning all too clearly. Nicholas was rigidly, freezingly polite when they met. He bowed in stern acknowledgement, but took care not to touch her. Not even her hand. He certainly did not seek her out. In fact, he remained as little time in her company as was politely possible. He did not smile at her or allow his eyes to meet with hers. They might have been mere distant acquaintances who did not like each other overmuch. Occasionally she surprised a quizzical look on his face as if he could not quite understand her. And he never flirted with her!

So why was she so unhappy? She had achieved exactly what she had set out to achieve. And in so short a time as to be almost miraculous. Perhaps she had missed her calling and should go on the stage!

At night she turned her face into her pillow, as if to block out the image of his face that haunted her waking and sleeping hours, and longed to feel the strength of his arms around her again.

‘You are sadly out of countenance, my love.’ Lady Drusilla eyed her daughter over the breakfast table and decided that the time had come not to mince words.

‘It was late when I arrived home last night,’ Thea explained in a somewhat colourless manner. ‘The musical evening at the Southcotts’, if you recall. I think you made an excellent choice not to attend, Mama. I have rarely spent a more tedious evening.’

‘It is not lack of sleep that makes you so pale. I have known you to dance until dawn without ill effects. So, listening to music …’ She paused. ‘He has gone, Theodora. It is over. You know it was the best decision to make and you must accept it.’ Her tone was bracing, but not without compassion.

It was three weeks since Lord Nicholas Faringdon had made his perfunctory excuses to his family, closed up Faringdon House and returned to Burford Hall. He had obviously made no attempt to see Theodora.

‘I know.’ Thea managed a smile as she reduced the warm roll to crumbs on her plate. ‘You will note that I am making every attempt to fulfil your wishes for me. Frederick is becoming quite hopeful.’

‘Unless he is driven away by your fading looks! I think you need a change of air, my dear. To leave London.’

‘Will you let me accompany you to St Petersburg?’ Thea looked up hopefully from the crumby disaster.
At least in Russia I would be as far from Nicholas as it would be possible to be!

‘No!’

‘But why should I leave London now? In the middle of the Season?’

‘Only for a short time. A few days. Until you have regained your looks. And I anticipate that the Earl will miss you—and be even keener to fix his interest with you on your return.’

‘Or take up with another débutante in my absence. A sad case of out of sight, out of mind.’ Not that she cared! ‘Miss Walworth is very pretty, do you not think?’

‘You need some colour in your cheeks.’ Lady Drusilla recognised the diversionary tactics and refused to co-operate. ‘And I think that you have lost weight. Furthermore, there are distinct shadows under your eyes this morning. It really will not do, Thea.’

Thea sighed and gave in, even as she took herself to task for lack of spirit. ‘So, where are you sending me?’ Perhaps a change of scene would restore her energies. She was simply not used to feeling so
down
.

Since Lord Nicholas’s departure, Thea’s errant behaviour had been transformed almost overnight, the unfortunate hitches forgotten, her social solecisms glossed over. Judith had apparently forgiven her, although she still expressed disquiet over her treatment of poor Nicholas. Lady Beatrice frowned and was inclined to refer to
that incident in St James’s Street
, but was prepared to accept that perhaps Theodora had not realised the enormity of her transgression. Frederick was attentive. Smitten, Judith suggested with a suppressed chuckle. So all was comfortable again.

The only problem was with Thea’s heart, which refused to return
to its previously unawakened state and its normal steady rhythm.

‘I have had an idea,’ Lady Drusilla announced. ‘I have an ancient cousin, Jennifer Hatton. She is mostly housebound and very deaf, but she is my only close relative. I have no wish to visit her in her rural solitude, but should enquire after her before we leave for St Petersburg.
You
could go, instead. With Agnes, of course. It would be the perfect solution. You will enjoy the freedom from London restrictions and a visit into the country will do you good.’

‘Very well.’ Thea abandoned her attempt at breakfast. She felt no great enthusiasm, but perhaps it would be better than allowing her eyes to search every soirée, every ballroom, every street, for a glimpse of Nicholas, when she knew for certain that he was no longer in town. And certainly better than suffering a severe attack of the nerves when she saw a dark-haired, broad shouldered gentleman. It was hopeless! She
never
suffered from nerves!

‘There is one problem.’

She tuned her mind back into her mother’s words.

‘Cousin Jennifer lives in Tenbury Wells. In Herefordshire.’

‘Oh!’
Burford Hall is in Herefordshire!

Lady Drusilla caught the interested gleam in Thea’s eyes. ‘I expect you to be sensible, Theodora,’ she declaimed in firm accents. ‘On no account are you to make contact with Lord Nicholas. Not after all your hard work to distance yourself from him—it would be foolish in the extreme to put yourself in his way. It is an advantage that you will not be called upon to socialise while you are there in Tenbury Wells. My cousin is too elderly to visit or to keep open house.’ She surveyed her daughter and wondered if her suggestion had been quite wise. There was a distinct return of colour to Thea’s pale cheeks. ‘You will do nothing to draw attention to yourself. You will go nowhere near Burford Hall. Fresh air, new surroundings, and back here at the end of the week. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Mama. Very clear.’ Thea smiled in perfect serenity. ‘I will do just as you say.’

‘You do not visit Burford Hall!’

‘Of course not, Mama.’ Of course she would go nowhere near Burford Hall.

But Aymestry Manor, Nicholas’s own property, which her mama appeared to have overlooked, was not so very far from Tenbury Wells. Would she be able to resist going to see Nicholas’s own home? If she were sensible, she would remain as distant as possible from it. How foolish it would be to even risk a chance meeting. But the temptation to see his home for herself was well-nigh irresistible …

Her spirits lifted as she left the breakfast parlour, informing her mama that she would go and supervise the packing for a visit into the country. She could not quite quell the little surge of—what? Hope? Anticipation? How foolish she was, but energy once more sang in her blood.

Lady Drusilla frowned at her daughter. ‘Are you humming, Theodora?’ she asked, her suspicions aroused, as the lady walked to the door with a lively flounce to her skirts?

‘Humming? Certainly not, Mama. I never hum!’

And with that Lady Drusilla had to be content.

T
hea discovered her mother’s brief description of Cousin Jennifer to be exact to a point. Of advanced age, she lived retired from society, profoundly deaf and intolerant of those around her except for the equally elderly servants who ministered to her needs. Her days were spent in reading, tending her beloved garden and drinking a quantity of vintage port. She made Thea welcome in a casual manner, but, although friendly enough, made no alteration in her own itinerary beyond giving instructions for Thea’s comfort in the house as long as she cared to remain there. She had clearly expected no visit from Lady Drusilla. Thea decided that it had all been a ruse on her mother’s part to remove her from town for a little while, but accepted the cunning but obvious subterfuge with equanimity. She had enjoyed the journey in the company of Mistress Drew and her groom of long standing, Edward Dacre. Sir Hector had also insisted that a servant accompany her to handle her luggage, arrange her accommodation at hotels and inns
en route
. So they had made quite an entourage and Thea had found nothing demanded of her but to relax and enjoy the experience. Sir Hector had provided a light travelling coach for her comfort so she travelled in style and also had her grey Arab mare, The Zephyr, with her.

At Tenbury House, on the outskirts of the little town, Thea settled
in. Nothing was required of her by her hostess, which gave Thea the opportunity to enjoy as much fresh air and freedom as her mother had recommended. She explored the little town, a minor spa graced with a parade of shops, an ancient church and a swiftly flowing river with swans and ducks. But, attractive as it was, its pleasures were soon exhausted.

So, now what should she do with her time? Thea discovered a little pamphlet describing the local sights worthy of admiration. She riffled through the pages with eyes that did not quite focus on the words and illustrations on the page. Because in the back of Thea’s mind lurked the prospect of Aymestry Manor. It glowed like a jewel on black velvet. It lured her, enticed her, wearing down her good intentions. It was so close, after all. Surely a brief visit, just to
look
—from a distance, of course—would be acceptable? Conscience and common sense warned her of the dangers of such an escapade. Her own inclination was reluctant to listen. Her common sense took on the tone and accents of Lady Drusilla at her most imposing.

You must not go there, Theodora!

But why not?

What good would it do to meet Nicholas again? You know all the arguments, all the dangers, only too well
.

He would not be there!

It would be wrong to see him. You care for him too much
.

I have no intention of seeing him!

So what is the point of going?

Because … because I want to see the house that is his very own, which he cares for, which is close to his heart.

And what good would that do, pray?

I don’t know. I simply want to see something that matters to him. There is no danger in that, is there?

So you are merely inquisitive? Really, Theodora!

Yes! And what is wrong with that?

Her common sense (and Lady Drusilla) gave up and lost the argument.

As a result, on a bright morning, the lady took Agnes Drew, Edward Dacre and their servant on a mounted expedition to Aymestry, a journey that could easily be managed in a day. A pleasant journey where they were free to admire the gentle rounded hills, wooded valleys, the flash of the deep and secret River Teme as it emerged from the undergrowth. Wild flowers cloaked verges with buttercups and ox-eye daisies. The apple trees were laden with blossom, promise of a good harvest.

Asking directions, they turned on to a little track that wound between high grass and old hedgerows. And there it was, in an open valley, surrounded by pasture and stands of oak and beech. Thea reined in The Zephyr on a rounded knoll to get a better view. Nicholas had spoken of Aymestry Manor often, not in any great detail, but with deep affection. Now she understood why, knowing that it had been willed to him from the family estate, originally part of a dowry from his mother’s family.

The first impression to strike her was that it was not classically beautiful. No clean lines or porticoes, no symmetrical windows, no pillars or imposing steps. It was a hotchpotch of old construction over the centuries, with the addition of more recent wings and storeys. A mellow stone wing from the seventeenth century butted against wood and plaster half-timbered walls and gables. A carved entrance porch led to an arched doorway that smacked of medieval origins. One recent addition with a little tower rose above a double-hipped roof-line. Beside it, around a paved central courtyard, were half-timbered barns, a red-brick dove cote, a pair of oast houses with their tilted stone roofs and a range of stone and plaster stabling. It was not classical, but it was charming, offering an immediate warmth and welcome.

It was, she thought, on a sudden impulse, a
home
. But she knew that Nicholas, by necessity, spent little time there.

Around the house she could see evidence of gardens, both informal and formal, a ha-ha protecting them from the predations of animals that grazed in the open pastures beyond. Thea sighed and tried to ignore the little tug at her heart as the sun encouraged the roses along one gable-end to unfurl their petals and the
doves flew in a flurry of white wings, to settle once more on their perches.