Unlacing Lady Thea Page 22

  ‘Coxcomb,’ he told himself aloud. But he couldn’t just leave it, and besides, she was unwell.

  He scratched lightly on her door, expecting either no response or for Polly to open it, but Thea called, ‘Come in!’

  She looked pale and pinched as she sat up in bed against a pile of pillows. There was a glass by the bedside with cloudy liquid in it.

  ‘I came to see how you were. May I come in?’ She smiled and his pulse did that odd little stutter it so often seemed to do when he saw her unexpectedly, or when she smiled.

  ‘I am fine,’ she said. ‘Have they gone to their room?’

  ‘Yes. Never mind about them.’ Rhys sat on the side of the bed and took her hand in his, feeling for the pulse. It seemed steady enough and her skin was cool. ‘I am concerned about you, Thea. These lagoons and marsh fever...’

  The colour came up under her skin and she looked down at their joined hands. ‘My courses have begun, that is all. My stomach cramps, my back aches, I feel like a wrung-out dishcloth—and you may congratulate yourself on the efficacy of your precautions.’

  ‘Ah. Oh...excellent. Not that you are feeling unwell, I mean.’ Probably all men were reduced to wittering idiots by the reality of the female system. His mistresses had always managed the matter by simply informing him when it was inconvenient to call.

  How to ask that other question? He suspected the answer was not going to be as straightforward to obtain. ‘Thea, who was it you have been in love with all this time?’ Well done, Denham, that was subtle and tactful.

  Thea shook off his light grip and sat more upright. ‘Why on earth are you asking me that now?’

  ‘It is just that Serena was hinting.’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ That’s right, belittle it. Now is a good time to remove foot from mouth.

  ‘What has she been saying?’ Thea demanded. ‘You should know better than to listen to her. She manages to tie you in knots every time, doesn’t she? You have hurt her feelings and I have witnessed it. Serena may have the intelligence of a peahen, but she has an instinct for making trouble.’ Thea folded her arms tightly across her chest, as if to hold herself together. She looked thoroughly upset and he felt a complete swine.

  An idea struck him. ‘Is it Paul? Is that why you were so upset when she ran off with him? He was always the good-looking one in our circle.’

  ‘Paul?’ She laughed unsteadily. ‘You clot! Of course it isn’t him. And I was upset because of what they had done to you. How would you have felt if our positions had been reversed and a man, a friend of yours, had left me at the altar?’

  ‘I’d have killed him,’ Rhys said without having to think.

  ‘Well, there you are. Ladies don’t have the luxury of being able to rush off and create mayhem, so we just have to make do with being quietly upset for our friends. Mind you,’ she added, ‘if I could have got my hands on Serena just then, I think I might have pulled her hair out.’

  They sat in silence for a while. Rhys relaxed, leaned back against the bedpost as Thea fidgeted with the laces at the neck of her nightgown. Then she raised her head and looked him straight in the eye. ‘What was she hinting?’ When he shook his head she said, ‘Tell me or I’ll ask her myself.’

  ‘That it was me.’ He waited, braced for tears, an armful of woman, anger...

  ‘You must think me a very good actress,’ Thea said flatly. ‘Do you think I could hide that, living with you for weeks? That I could accept the end of our affaire so easily?’ She swallowed. ‘I am sorry, you must find this hideously embarrassing.’

  ‘No, it is my fault. I should have taken no notice of Serena. You are right, she is a troublemaker and, as you say, how could someone as honest as you keep feelings like that hidden?’

  ‘I cannot imagine.’ That was more like it; the tart edge was back on her tongue. ‘But I think you had better leave Venice, very soon. I will be fine here with Mr Edgerton and his respectable widow, and if you go there will be less for Serena to gossip about. I would hate it if somehow your prospects of making the match you desire are spoiled by her. She still has friends she writes to in England, no doubt.’

  ‘Leave?’ Leave you? he almost said.

  ‘I am sorry, because it must be one of the most spectacular of all the cities you were planning to visit, but you can always come back once Godmama is here and I have gone.’

  ‘You are, as ever, sensible.’ He supposed Thea was right—if he was anywhere in Venice it could cause problems for both of them.

  ‘You believe now that leaving home was sensible? That becoming your lover was prudent?’

  Trick questions, Rhys thought. There are no correct answers. ‘If those were the right things for you, then yes.’

  He stood up. ‘I’ll leave in the morning, just as soon as I am certain those two have gone back to their lodgings.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Rome, I thought,’ Rhys said, plucking a city out of the air. He bent to drop a kiss on the end of her nose. ‘Goodnight, Thea.’

  When he glanced back from the door she was quite composed. She must have seen something in his face for she shook her head at him, smiled and blew him a kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  No one would have guessed that she had spent the night wide awake, Thea reassured herself with a quick glance in the overmantel mirror as they sat around the breakfast table. She had finally dropped off to sleep as the bells were chiming five o’clock.

  Paul and Serena were subdued but civil and left, to Mr Edgerton’s ill-concealed relief, after the meal. Paul and Rhys, she noticed, shook hands. To her shock, there was a boat at the landing stage for Rhys, his bags already in it.

  ‘I got up early and Edgerton arranged everything,’ he explained. ‘I thought the sooner the better.’

  ‘Yes, of course. But what about Hodge and Polly?’ she asked, halfway down the steps to the courtyard. How could Rhys just leave like this, as though he could hardly bear to stay another minute? Had she failed to convince him? Was he certain she was inconveniently and tiresomely in love with him?

  ‘I am leaving Hodge with you. They have two months’ wages in hand. Edgerton will help him arrange the wedding.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘I’ll find myself an Italian valet for a while, or do without. I’m not that much of a dandy.’ He stopped at the foot of the steps and grinned up at her. ‘Now, am I?’

  ‘No, but...’

  ‘And when Godmama returns she’ll find you a maid and Hodge and Polly can catch me up, wherever I’ve got to.’

  He looked cheerful, alert, ready to move on. Thea swallowed the words that almost escaped her and said, ‘Don’t forget to write and tell me all about Rome, will you?’ She came down until she was standing on the first step, almost eye to eye with him.

  ‘Of course not. Goodbye, Thea. Take care and give my love to Godmama. May I have a farewell kiss?’

  All she had to do was lean a little closer. Thea put her hand on the strong, steady shoulder and tipped her face, her eyes wide open. Rhys bent, then hesitated, a breath above her mouth. ‘Thea.’ Then he kissed her, a light brush of the closed lips, brotherly, friendly. She fought to stop her fingers closing, gripping through the broadcloth and linen to the man beneath.

  In a heartbeat something changed. He lifted his hand from the rail and pulled her to him, off balance on the edge of the step so that she had to catch at him with both hands. The pressure of his mouth increased, the familiar, intimate demand of his tongue pushed between her lips and she opened to him, forgot prudence and disguise, sank into his embrace and the heat and the passion of the kiss.

  When he released her she stumbled and he steadied her, but he did not speak. His eyes were dark and wide as though he had sustained a shock. Then he turned on his heel and strode to the boat, stepped in and sat with his broad back to her as the boatman cast off the lines and the oarsmen picked up the stroke. She ran to the edge of the landing stage and watched as they reached the Grand Canal and turned, ou
t of sight. Rhys never looked round. Not once.

  * * *

  ‘Lady Althea, are you certain this is prudent?’ Mr Edgerton was as close to agitated as she had ever seen him.

  ‘No,’ she admitted. It seemed she had done nothing that was prudent since she’d stood outside Papa’s study door and heard how he and Anthony had betrayed her. Leaving home had not been prudent, going to Rhys had not been prudent. Becoming his lover had been thoroughly imprudent.

  Being imprudent was dangerous, and sometimes the results hurt. But pain showed you were alive. After Rhys had left she had donned cloak and mask and gone with Polly and Hodge to the Anglican minister to arrange their wedding and then to visit shops.

  ‘Don’t you want to see the sights, my lady?’ Polly had asked. ‘Lovely, isn’t it? But strange.’ She’d still been bubbling with excitement over the wedding, which had been arranged for two days’ time.

  ‘We have shopping to do for your bride clothes,’ Thea had said. ‘And I want to go to a map shop. We will have time to explore later.’

  Now, with Polly safely Mrs Hodge, a sailing boat chartered and crewed under Edgerton’s eagle eye, Thea was ready to set out on yet another thoroughly imprudent enterprise. ‘I can see Venice when I return with Lady Hughson, but I find I have grown accustomed to travel. I would like to explore the coast of Italy, and so I shall.’

  Her money would hold out, for she had never managed to persuade Rhys to let her pay for more than her clothes shopping. Mr Edgerton had reluctantly admitted to knowing a completely reliable captain and crew and introduced her to Signor Vincenzo, who was a courier with an excellent reputation. ‘I will come back with Godmama or, if I do not find her, I will turn around when I reach Sicily and return,’ she promised the secretary.

  Mr Edgerton assisted her into the boat that would take them out into the lagoon and the waiting ship. ‘After working for Lady Hughson all these years I suppose I should not be surprised at what her godchildren do,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Bon voyage!’

  Thea did not turn her head as she was rowed towards the Grand Canal. Rhys had not and neither would she. She had no wish to see the place where he had kissed and left her without a backwards glance.

  The rowers negotiated their way into the crowded Grand Canal. This was the start of the rest of her life. She had lost her virginity and gained her independence. She was mistress of her own destiny now.

  Venice was beautiful; the light sparkled off the water and lit the exotic curves of windows that seemed transported from some Eastern palace. Soft pink brick and white stone, stained by water and weed, riches and decay, palaces, churches, prisons. She would come back here and explore, and then where? Constantinople? Greece?

  Without thinking she pointed out an exquisite little palazzo. ‘Rhys, look... I mean, Polly, do see that charming little building.’

  The small cold knot inside her tightened into pain. So lonely without him. She knew she would miss him in her bed, but she had not realised how much she had talked with him, how they had shared new wonders, amusements, moments of beauty.

  Perhaps he would meet Giles in Rome. She hoped so; she wanted him to have a companion, resilient and independent as he was. Someone to share with.

  ‘Pull into the landing at St Mark’s Square,’ she called to the boatman. ‘I want a stationer’s shop.’

  Signor Vincenzo was instantly alert. ‘But yes, madonna, there is a charming one under the arcade.’

  He helped her out and guided her to the shop. ‘I want a journal,’ she explained. ‘A thick one. Several, in fact.’ She would record everything, her thoughts, all her experiences as though she was telling them to Rhys.

  They were beautiful, the covers made with the marbled papers that Venice’s book binders were famous for, feathered with patterns made by floating oils on water, stroking it into swirls and then laying on the paper. She added pencils, coloured inks, new pens. Live for the moment and record it all for the dark days. Because there would be dark days when she was not feeling so strong, when the memories were too much and it was no comfort at all to know that she had chosen to preserve those recollections.

  * * *

  The coast was every bit as lovely as she had hoped and the towns strung along it as fascinating. Tiny fishing harbours with Venetian forts towering above them, busy little ports, cities filled with treasures that left her breathless—she felt she might never recover from Ravenna—slipped past in sunlight and under blue skies as though the weather was conspiring with her.

  They anchored each night as darkness fell, and as the nights passed she became familiar with the moon and stars as she never had in cloudy England or on the voyage from Toulon when she had eyes only for Rhys. Was it a cliché that every lover stood and stared at the moon and thought of their beloved looking up at the same sky? Through Signor Vincenzo she talked to the helmsman and learned the names of the stars and wrote them in her journal. If you were here, you would draw the constellations, she wrote to the man who would never read her words. Orion, the Great Bear...

  * * *

  Ancona, Pescara, round the spur on the heel of Italy to Bari. Two weeks after they had left Venice, dawdling on light winds, watching dolphins and stopping to buy fish straight from the nets as they were hauled ashore, they rounded the heel and reached the lagoons of Taranto. It was hot here and Thea and Polly wore light muslins and wide-brimmed hats as they strolled through the streets to stare at the forbidding bulk of the Governor’s Palace and to buy in the market: dates from Africa, melons, oranges, strange fruits she had no names for. There were palm trees amongst the crumbling grey stones and a great fortress and yet another harbourmaster who assured them that il principe’s yacht, the Aquila, had moored here.

  ‘But yes, madonna, they sail a week ago after being here four days. They go to Crotone, the captain says.’ He gestured out across the wide bay to the south-west. ‘They do not hurry. Is romantic, no? A honeymoon on the sea.’

  ‘Honeymoon? No, you are quite mistaken, signor, merely two friends on a voyage of pleasure.’ Thea realised she was gossiping with a complete stranger and moderated her tone. ‘Thank you, we will be sailing immediately.’

  There was no hiding her surprise from Polly. ‘Surely Godmama cannot have got married without Mr Edgerton knowing? He is her confidential secretary.’

  ‘They don’t have to be married, do they, my lady? But she’s quite old, isn’t she, Lady Hughson?’

  ‘Old? Not above forty-five,’ Thea said after a moment’s thought. ‘When I was a child she seemed ancient and ageless, of course, but she was widowed very young. It was a true love match and a terrible tragedy that he died.’

  ‘A long time to mourn,’ Polly said as they reached the quayside. ‘Especially if she has a second chance now.’

  Did it really take that long to heal? Thea leaned on the ship’s rail and watched the low coastline vanish into heat haze as they struck out across the wide bay. She had thought herself cured of her love for Rhys when she had agreed to Anthony’s courtship. Now she realised that she’d had a fortunate escape. Even if he had been an honestly sincere man, she would never have been happy with him because her heart would never have been free. From the corner of her eyes she could see Hodge and Polly sitting quietly together, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. At least her actions had brought two people together.

  * * *

  Three more days and Thea was woken by Polly bouncing into her cabin. ‘Oh, my lady! Come and see—it’s a volcano, a real one with smoke and everything!’

  ‘Mount Etna,’ Thea said, rubbing her eyes as Polly bundled her into her wrapper. ‘It won’t go away.’

  ‘But come and see!’ Polly danced out of the cabin, more excited by the mountain than she had been by Venetian canals, dolphins or African traders.

  Thea had to agree that it was a staggering sight when she joined Polly and Hodge on deck. Against the pink morning sky the plume of smoke trailed sideways in long streamers from the top of the conical moun
tain. At its foot lay Taormina and a string of small towns and villages. ‘I would not want to live there,’ she said with a shiver. ‘There was a city called Pompeii that was buried when another volcano, Vesuvius, erupted in Roman times. They say Napoleon had scholars digging it up.’

  ‘Brrr.’ Polly gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘We’re not stopping here, are we?’

  ‘The harbourmaster at Crotone said he thought the Aquila was making for Syracuse, farther along the coast, so we will go straight there.’ Thea was beginning to have qualms about descending unexpectedly on Godmama. What if she really was on a romantic escape with a lover? At least with her own ship she could be independent and not intrude. She would have to play it by ear—if they ever caught up with the prince’s yacht.

  ‘Dolphins,’ Signor Vincenzo called from the stern. He had learned that Thea had an inexhaustible passion for the creatures, however many they saw and, in the absence of much else to do, he had become dolphin lookout.

  Thea joined him. ‘We are being followed.’ Well behind them another ship of a similar size was on the same tack.

  ‘He has been there since dawn,’ the Italian said. ‘Heading for Syracuse, too, I hope.’

  ‘You hope?’

  ‘Black sails, fast lines. Perhaps he is a pirate. With the end of the fighting there are no French or British warships to keep them in check.’

  ‘That is perhaps more excitement than I wanted.’ Thea shaded her eyes to watch the sinister ship in the distance. ‘Will you tell the captain that I wish to make straight for Syracuse with good speed?’

  * * *

  And here we are, safely in Syracuse harbour, Thea wrote in her journal that evening. The night air was cool and she had gone to her cabin after dinner, leaving Hodge and Polly the privacy of the deck to stroll, hand in hand.

  We have found the Aquila and the harbourmaster at Taranto was right: Godmama is in love. We saw the yacht at once: sleek and white with brown sails and a huge figurehead of an eagle in gold. I did not want to intrude so I borrowed the captain’s telescope and there they were on deck, arm in arm, so intent, with eyes only for each other. Just talking, but I could feel the closeness even across the water.