Unlacing Lady Thea Read online

  It would be good to have a few moments to think about what she was going to say to him, Thea thought as she hurried along the corridor. She should reassure him that there was no chance that she was with child, which was embarrassing, although considering how intimate they had been, that seemed irrational. And then she must assure him that she expected nothing from him now other than his continuing friendship, which was going to be...tricky. It would be all too easy to protest too much, she suspected, trying out suitable phrases in her head as she went down the stairs to the entrance courtyard.

  It was deserted, filled only with the sound of water lapping outside and the scent of jasmine from a tub by the ancient wellhead. The surface of the canal, lit by torchères on the landing stage, was reflected back on the vaulted roof of the internal colonnade, a shifting pattern of ripples that was almost hypnotic.

  These past weeks have been very special, but it is as well we have... You know how much I... Rhys, we have always been such good friends, I hope we can continue...

  There was the sound of voices from the canal, the slapping of the water became louder and a series of bumps heralded the arrival of a gondola at the landing stage. Thea drew back into the shadows under the stairs. Without a mask she felt vulnerable, and there was no telling who the visitors might be.

  There was a low-voiced argument going on and she thought it was in English, but she could not make out any words. A man and a woman, by the sound of it. Through the grill she could make out figures, both cloaked. One of them tugged on the bell pull and almost immediately there was the sound of feet running down the stairs above her head. One of the footmen opened the gate.

  ‘Madonna is not at home,’ he said in heavily accented English before the visitors could speak.

  ‘Damn it, she must receive us!’ English, educated and strangely familiar.

  There was a scuffle and the footman was forced back a pace. The visitors stepped through the grill and into the pool of light cast by one of the torchères as someone else came down the stairs.

  ‘Now look here, Edgerton, just go upstairs and tell our godmother that we are here, will you? This nonsense about her not being at home—’

  But I know that voice....

  ‘Is the truth. Lady Hughson is not in Venice at the moment and is unlikely to return for some weeks.’

  ‘In that case, we’ll stay. Don’t tell me you haven’t room in this barn of a place.’

  ‘Mr Weston, Lady Serena, I have no instructions to receive or accommodate you.’

  Thea sat down on the edge of the well, heedless of moss and ferns, and held on to the iron bucket winch for support as the torch-lit scene shifted and blurred in front of her. Paul Weston, Rhys’s once best friend, and Serena, his fiancée who had jilted him at the altar.

  She was hardly aware of a soft tread on the stairs, of the brush of a cloak as a tall figure passed her, until another man loomed up in silhouette beside the secretary. Rhys. Serena gave a little scream and clutched at Paul. Thea got to her feet, knowing even as she moved it was too late.

  Rhys stepped forward, flicked one edge of his cloak over his shoulder, clenched his right fist and drove it straight into the other man’s jaw. Paul reeled backwards, made a futile grab for the iron grill, slipped and fell into the canal with a splash that echoed round the courtyard. Serena shrieked and fainted into Edgerton’s arms, the footman stood with his mouth open, gaping, and Rhys turned on his heel and stalked back towards the stairs.

  As a boy Paul Weston had never learned to swim. Thea knew that. So did Rhys. She only hoped he had forgotten that in the heat of the moment and had not intended murder. The gondola that had delivered the couple had gone, she realised as she slid to a halt on the landing stage. In the water Paul was floundering, sinking. She yanked a boathook from the wall and held it out to him. He grabbed for it, missed and sank.

  ‘Rhys Denham!’ she shouted without turning. ‘Come back here or I am going to have to go in and get him myself!’

  For a moment she thought Rhys had not heard her, or did not believe her, or simply did not care. Then he was at her side, shedding coat and cloak, kicking off his shoes. He hit the dark water in a shallow dive and surfaced with his arms full of struggling man.

  ‘Keep still, you fool, or I’ll hit you again.’ He hauled Paul to the edge of the landing stage as Thea pushed the footman forward to help.

  ‘Give her to me,’ she told Edgerton, who was still clutching Serena. ‘It is a faint at worst, play-acting at best. Help Rhys.’ She pulled the other woman into her arms. Serena gave a faint moan. ‘Stop that. Go and sit on the steps or I’ll drop you,’ Thea warned.

  Serena shot her a look of deep reproach and staggered to the steps. ‘Althea? Oh, how could you be so unfeeling?’

  ‘Very easily,’ Thea snapped. Paul was out of the water, gasping in a puddle like a landed fish. Rhys levered himself out with a strength that she spared a fleeting moment to admire, and sat in his own small lake, coughing.

  ‘Go and get blankets and brandy.’ She tugged at the footman’s arm. ‘Tell the kitchen to heat hot water for baths. Hurry.’

  When she knelt beside Rhys he shook himself like a dog and spat into the canal. ‘Sorry, but that is the filthiest thing I have ever tasted. If we don’t come down with dysentery, I’ll be amazed.’

  Servants began to run downstairs, flapping blankets, supporting the men and Serena up to the main floor. In the end they all found themselves in the main salon. Rhys and Paul dripped on the marble floor and tossed back brandy, Serena lay on a sofa, moaning, and was comprehensively ignored and Thea and Edgerton were left to organise baths, dry clothes and a room for Paul and Serena.

  ‘I do not like to have them under this roof,’ Edgerton said when they found themselves outside the salon for a moment. ‘Lady Hughson has no idea they are here and they have sponged enough on her goodwill and purse, in my opinion.’

  ‘She has been supporting them? For how long?’ Thea gestured a maid with armfuls of linens into a bedchamber as far as possible from Rhys’s.

  ‘Since virtually the time they eloped. If it was not for her, they would be in debtors’ prison, I have no doubt,’ Edgerton said, the set of his mouth showing clearly what he thought of the matter.

  ‘I find it hard to believe,’ Thea murmured. ‘They betrayed Rhys....’

  ‘Does it seem to you that Lady Hughson added to that betrayal by helping them afterwards? She told me that if Lord Palgrave loved Lady Serena he would not want her destitute, whatever happened and, besides, she had sworn to care for all her godchildren. In a way, I think she felt guilty that she had not realised what was going on and that she had not been a better influence on Lady Serena.’

  ‘I doubt anything, short of a miracle, would have changed Serena.’ She stopped a hurrying maid. ‘Are the baths ready? Il bagno?’

  ‘Si, madonna.’

  Thea mentally rolled up her sleeves and went back into the salon. ‘Gentlemen, your baths are ready. Rhys, I have told the footman to take some clothes from your room for Paul. Mr Edgerton’s would be too small. Serena, I suggest you go and lie down.’ For a moment she wondered if her cavalier disposal of Rhys’s wardrobe to the other man would be the final straw, but he put down his brandy glass and stalked out with a nod of acknowledgement in her direction.

  ‘I will order refreshments for an hour’s time,’ Edgerton said. ‘I doubt anyone wants to go out tonight.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Thea surveyed the salon and wondered if social situations ever got much trickier. Mr Edgerton had tactfully removed himself, leaving one earl; two earls’ daughters, one of whom had jilted the said earl and the other who had been his mistress; and a gentleman who had wronged the earl, created a scandal and whom the earl had just punched on the jaw. Fortunately, this is not an English drawing room, she thought, suppressing an hysterical giggle, or someone would start discussing the weather or worrying about the seating plan for dinner.

  As it was, she had the tea ur
n by her side and an array of tea cups before her, and that was English and unreal enough, under the circumstances.

  ‘A cup of tea, Serena?’

  ‘How could you?’ the other woman said with a shudder from the corner of the sofa where she was draped like a tragic Muse.

  ‘Very easily. I am positively parched after all that excitement.’ Thea poured herself a cup. ‘I could order you coffee, if you prefer?’

  ‘You were always so prosaic.’ Serena turned her gaze from a moody examination of the darkening bruise on Paul’s jaw and stared at Thea through narrowed eyes. ‘But you’ve changed. What have you done?’

  ‘Grown up?’ Thea suggested sweetly. ‘I am several years younger than you, don’t forget, Serena.’ It was unworthy, but she could not resist the barb. Serena’s hair was still as blonde, her big eyes still as blue, but there were faint lines at the corners and more pronounced ones from her nose to the corner of her lips. She must have spent too much time with an expression of dissatisfaction.

  ‘Rhys? Paul? Tea?’ Neither man had spoken to the other since Rhys had hauled Paul out of the canal.

  ‘Thank you, no.’ Rhys went to the decanters, poured two brandies and offered one silently to the other man. After a moment’s hesitation, Paul took it. ‘You will not stay here beyond tonight,’ Rhys said, resuming his place before the empty hearth. ‘In Godmama’s absence Mr Edgerton controls this household, and he does not welcome you here.’

  ‘Can you not forgive me?’ Serena demanded. ‘I know I broke your heart—’

  ‘No,’ Rhys said, his voice flat. ‘You broke your parents’ hearts, you dealt my self-esteem a severe and probably very healthy blow and you caused great embarrassment and distress to a number of people. But if you have spent these past years imagining me pining away for love of you, Serena, you are much mistaken. I was infatuated and dazzled, yes. In love, no.’

  She gaped at him. Thea, in a muddle of confused emotions, knew she was probably gaping, too. Somehow she had never quite believed that he had not loved Serena, but there was no mistaking the stark truth of what he was saying now.

  ‘Then why the hell did you damn near drown me?’ Paul Weston demanded.

  Rhys looked him up and down. ‘For betraying my trust, for lying to a friend, for distressing all our families. How is that for a start? There was no need for any of that drama. If you had been man enough to tell me that you loved Serena—and if she had not enjoyed being courted by two men quite so much—then I would have helped you, somehow.’

  ‘But we didn’t want to hurt you,’ Serena wailed.

  Thea wanted to leave, to get away from Rhys’s brutal frankness on one side and Serena’s dramatics on the other, but this was too much. ‘Hurt him?’ she demanded. ‘You mean you didn’t want to face up to what you had done. You had no concerns about hurting anyone, just as long as you were not around to bear the consequences. Paul was weak and deceitful and a bad friend, but you were selfish and heedless. Did you not realise that if Rhys had come after you he could have killed Paul? He is a better shot and better swordsman.’

  ‘What stopped you?’ Paul was white-faced, the bruise still red and stark. With his blond hair and dark eyes Thea had always thought him the more conventionally good-looking, but now, comparing the two as grown men, she saw the weakness in his face and the signs of self-indulgence around his waistline and jowls.

  ‘Thea stopped me.’ Rhys did not look at her as he spoke.

  ‘I have had more than enough of this.’ Thea got to her feet. ‘It was bad enough at the time without raking over the cold ashes of it now. I do not feel well and I am going to my bed.’ It was true enough. Her stomach was cramping, her back was aching and all she wanted was to lie down.

  * * *

  Thea looked white and drawn and as though she was in pain. Rhys wondered whether he should go after her or whether it was best to leave her to Polly. She’d probably had more than enough of his company today.

  ‘Of course! How silly of me never to have suspected it,’ Serena said, her eyes bright and full of delighted speculation. ‘Thea was in love with you all along, the secretive little cat! She stopped you coming after me because she wanted you for herself. And she is in love with you still—I could see it in her face. The maid said you aren’t married, but you’ve been travelling together. Lord, who is the one making a scandal now?’

  Even as he controlled his expression Rhys knew he could not stop the blood draining from his face. He could feel the cold, tight sensation over his cheekbones.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, she was sixteen, Serena. Hardly a femme fatale plotting to ensnare a man. Thea is my friend and always has been, although I realise that friendship between a man and a woman is a difficult concept for you to grasp. I have escorted her here to Godmama because she had left home after a falling-out with her father—that is the scandal if you are so avid for one.’

  ‘And she was as plain a child as you could come across, and a tomboy to boot, Serena,’ Paul chipped in, almost earning himself another thump on the jaw.

  ‘Well, she isn’t plain now,’ Serena snapped. ‘She’s not a beauty, but she’s got style.’

  ‘What does it matter to you whether she’s an Incomparable or bracket faced?’ Rhys demanded, desperate to get Serena’s, and his own thoughts, off the subject. ‘Now, where are you two living?’

  ‘Oh, horrible lodgings,’ Serena began. ‘So damp and—’

  ‘They aren’t that bad,’ Paul put in. ‘Just rather simple. And the rent’s due,’ he added.

  ‘What have you been living on?’ Other than Godmama?

  ‘My father pays my allowance on condition we don’t go back to England. I play cards a bit. I’ve acted as courier for English tourists now and again.’ Paul shrugged and glanced down at Serena. ‘We get by, don’t we, my love?’

  Her lush, lovely mouth trembled and Rhys was reminded, painfully, of how much he had once desired her. He expected her to make some complaint, but she looked up at Paul and held out her hand to him. ‘Yes, we get by.’ She shot a resentful glance at Rhys. ‘It is called love.’

  She really does love him, he thought. They have been together for six years and it cannot have been easy and yet somehow they are still together. Paul had acted like a dishonourable idiot, but he was not unintelligent. He would have come to his senses soon enough if he had simply been infatuated as Rhys had been. Was Thea right? Was love a real, lasting emotion that could form the basis of a happy marriage under even these circumstances?

  ‘You’d better go to your room,’ Rhys said abruptly. He followed them out and went, without a word, to his own room, unlocked his writing case and drew out a rouleau of guineas. He was probably an idiot, but forgiveness was supposed to be a virtue, wasn’t it?

  Before he could change his mind he went back to their room, knocked and when Paul opened the door thrust the money into his hand. ‘Call it a wedding present.’

  He felt better for doing it, he realised when he got back to his room, his fingers sore from Paul’s heartfelt handshake on top of the effects of that knuckle-grazing punch. It was like drawing a line under the whole damn mess.

  But Thea... Could Serena possibly be right? Could Thea have been in love with him ever since she was sixteen? Hodge stood patiently and Rhys gave himself a mental shake, pulled the pin out of his neckcloth and began to undress.

  His own voice seemed to echo in his head from weeks ago, as the chaise had rattled towards Dover. Did he break your heart?

  And Thea had smiled and said, Not deliberately. He had no idea of my feelings, you see, and besides, he was in love with someone else.

  Surely not. His fingers slowed on his waistcoat buttons. Thea was not a good actress, but she had wanted to be his lover. Would she have given herself to him if she loved another man? But then she had appeared quite calm about the end of the affaire, so...

  ‘My lord.’

  ‘Hmm? Sorry, Hodge, I was woolgathering. You’re no doubt anxious to be off to your bed.’<
br />
  To his amazement the valet blushed. ‘Er, my lord. I wanted to ask whether you’d have any objections to me and Polly Jones getting married. Here, if we can find a clergyman. It wouldn’t stop us working, my lord.’

  ‘I can’t pretend I hadn’t noticed you two were courting, but this is a bit sudden, isn’t it?’

  ‘Think it might be as well,’ Hodge said obscurely. ‘Polly’s a decent girl.’

  ‘And you’d not want anyone to draw conclusions from a seven-month pregnancy?’

  ‘Quite, my lord.’

  ‘Then you have my blessing, and when we get back to London I’ll see about finding the two of you some rooms.’

  Hodge beamed. ‘Thank you, my lord. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m only marrying her because there’s a babe on the way. I love her and that’s a fact.’

  * * *

  By the time Hodge had stopped being grateful and Rhys was in a banyan and sprawled in a deep armchair by the bed, there was no escaping the poisoned dart Serena had planted so skilfully under his skin. His confidence that such a state as love did not exist was being severely shaken today, and somehow he had never been able to dismiss the reality of the feelings Thea had so painfully confessed.

  And if he was the one she loved, then what was he going to do about it? She wanted a love match and he did not think he could manage to deceive her for long; she knew him too well. He liked her, admired her and desired her, but he could not live with emotion, with opening himself up to trust a single person with the essence of himself.

  When he had admitted to her that he had never loved Serena, her concern, her need to understand and to question him had felt like a surgeon probing a wound. For a moment he had wondered if that would help, wondered if he could pass through the pain and be healed. And then he had known that was just a sentimental dream.

  Perhaps he was wrong. After all, a sixteen-year-old girl would never be able to hide her feelings as well as Thea would have had to do.