Читать книгу Regency Rogues: Unlacing The Forbidden - Louise Allen - Страница 14

Being at sea was more pleasant than Thea had anticipated. The sun shone, her heavy cloak kept the wind at bay and seeing how the ship worked was entertaining. The captain took them straight out into the Channel where they met the large waves head on, so, once she had got used to the motion, Thea felt quite comfortable.

‘Take my arm,’ Rhys urged.

It was a foolish indulgence to cling to him, feel his strength expended just to keep her safe, to be looked after, the sole focus of his attentions. This was how beautiful women felt all the time: cared for, fussed over, treated as though they were fragile and valuable.

‘We can stagger drunkenly up and down the deck together,’ he added as they set off, surprising a gasp of laughter from her. No, Rhys didn’t think of her as a delicate flower. Good old tomboy Thea, that’s me.

It was difficult to speak, the wind whipping the words from their mouths, so they fell silent, occasionally pointing things out to each other—the famous White Cliffs, shining in the afternoon sun, the ship’s boy scampering amidst the rigging like a monkey, the gulls following their wake.

It made it all too easy to think and to remember.

She had been fourteen, a woman for only a few months, still awkward with her changing body and her strange shifting moods. Rhys had just turned twenty and for two years he had spent most of the summers with his male friends. Still, when he came back he treated her just the same, as a younger friend, not as a little girl or a nuisance. Looking back, she supposed that was because he simply did not think of her as female, a lowering conclusion.

She could recall thinking with relief that he hadn’t changed at all in the five months since she had last seen him. And then Serena Halstow had walked into the room, seventeen, blonde and pretty, and Rhys was looking at her in a way she had never seen him look at anyone before. Thea had not quite understood what was happening, but she did recognise her own feelings. She’d been violently jealous. In fact, she could have slapped Serena simply for lowering that sweep of dark lashes over her big blue eyes and then biting her lower lip as she peeped up at Rhys, who was looking, Thea had thought viciously, like a stunned cod.

They had taken no notice when she’d stamped off to sulk in the summerhouse, but when she’d calmed down a little she’d applied her brain to the situation and realised that Rhys was besotted with Serena and Serena was by no means averse to that. It had also become clear that her perception of Rhys as her best friend had shifted into something else entirely. She loved him. She was not sure what that meant, she simply knew that she had given her heart. When you are fourteen, love is for ever. She knew better now.

The butterfly-fluttering, pulse-quickening wonder of that feeling had lasted until supper when she’d stood next to Serena and saw them both reflected in the long glass. Her emotions might have decided they wanted to grow up, her body had started the uncomfortable, embarrassing process of doing so, but she was still a girl while Serena, there was no doubt, was already a young lady.

Thea had resented the approach of womanhood. She’d dug her heels in and fought every step, hating her changing shape, the monthly misery of her courses, the restrictions and the rules. But Serena had run towards it, arms wide, thrilled with her transformation into a beautiful young woman.

Looks had never mattered to Thea, who was far more interested in character. Her stepmother was constantly lecturing. ‘Stand up straight. Rinse your hair in vinegar, it might make it shine. Put this cream on those freckles.’ But most of the time she would just stare at Thea and sigh.

Gazing into the mirror beside Serena, she’d realised why. She was ordinary. Not ugly, not even interestingly plain. Just run-of-the-mill ordinary. Dull. Men were not attracted to ordinary—not that she wanted men in general, just her Rhys. And her Rhys had eyes only for Serena.

In one evening Thea came to terms with the truth: that she was not fit for the handsome, eligible young man she wanted because handsome, eligible men deserved beautiful wives. She was a disappointment to Papa, which was why he did not love her and she was invisible as a female to Rhys—and so he did not want her, either.

She’d stayed very quiet all that summer and even Godmama, usually so perceptive, put it down to her being at an awkward stage. By the time she’d met Rhys again she had conquered that foolish puppy love and had learned to live with reality. It was better in the end—daydreams only led to hurt.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Rhys bent to her ear, his breath hot on her wind-chilled skin.

‘Only one penny?’ Her laugh sounded as shrill as the gulls’ cries to her, but he did not appear to notice. ‘Ten guineas at the very least, my lord. They are very deep thoughts about ancient history.’

‘Are you a bluestocking, Thea?’ he teased.

‘I fear I am not serious enough.’

‘Thank goodness,’ Rhys said. ‘That’s what I always loved about you, Thea. You are so bright and yet such fun to be with.’

Her stomach swooped with a sensation that had nothing to do with the waves beneath the hull. ‘Is that what it was? And I had always assumed it was because I would tell the most outrageous fibs to get you out of scrapes.’

Love me? As a friend, there was no doubt. Rhys had always been a loyal friend. What would it be like to hear him say those words and mean them, as he must have said them to Serena?

He had fallen in love with Serena Halstow, had wooed and won her, so everyone thought. And then Serena had run away on her wedding day with Paul Weston, Rhys’s best friend, leaving Rhys to receive a note on the altar steps. In one shocked moment both Thea and Rhys had realised that Serena had been using Rhys’s courtship as a disguise for her love affair with the other man, who had little money and smaller prospects.

Paul, Thea had thought as she stood clutching the bride’s useless bouquet until the stems bent in her fingers. Of course. Paul, who Lord Halstow had been so vocal in dismissing as a rake and a wastrel.

For a second, a shameful second, her heart had leapt. Rhys was free. Then she realised he might be free, but he was also broken-hearted, however well he covered it up. The last thing he needed was his gawky little friend. Thea had bitten her lip and slammed the door firmly on the silly, romantic girl she had been.

She was grown-up now. When she’d come out, the men who did court her confirmed everything her stepmother had said. Men were not interested in ordinary girls unless they had connections and wealth. She had those in abundance, but her suitors were careless enough to let her see that was all the value she had for them. They were not interested in her sense of humour, her mind, her gift for friendship.

She would never have asked Rhys to let her travel with him if she had not believed those foolish feelings for him were safely in the past. And, of course, they were. Only, she never dreamt he would touch her on the first day like that.

Oh, well, as the Duke of Wellington said, I must tie a knot and carry on. Although she rather doubted whether the duke, famous for his amours, ever found such things disturbing his plans.

‘Tired?’ Rhys was leaning against the rail, supported on both elbows. His coat fell back, exposing the length of those well-muscled horseman’s legs, the breadth of his chest, the flat stomach under the watch chain curving across the subdued silk of his waistcoat. ‘You look very heavy-eyed.’

Her body felt achy, her lids heavy. She knew the cause, but it was hard to fight it. She was tired, that was the problem. Once she’d had a good night’s sleep in a proper bed she would be able to control these infuriating animal urges perfectly easily. She was an intelligent woman, after all. Sensible. That was all it needed—common sense.

‘It must be this sea air,’ Thea murmured. The same sea air that blew Rhys’s shirt tight against his body and tugged his hair back from his face. The young man she had known had grown into the breadth of his shoulders and the strong bones of his face as a hound puppy grew into its big feet and suddenly changed from a friendly, ungainly plaything into a sleek, muscled killing machine.

And it was not just physical. There was an assurance about him. He knew who he was, what he was. He existed in his world with complete confidence. No, his worlds, she realised. Even castaway he was master of his household and received only respect. His reputation as a landowner was unblemished. He had a full social life in a shark pool where there was no tolerance for anyone who was less than polished, assured, courageous, physically and mentally adept. How did a young man acquire those attributes? she wondered. He surely never had a doubt, never felt the fear and uncertainty that she was constantly having to suppress.

As for the way he unsettled her, well, she was not a girl any longer. She had read a lot of books, watched from the sidelines many a flirtation and courtship, allowed Anthony liberties that had gone too far, even if they had been disappointing and had taught her little.

What she was feeling was physical desire and telling herself that ladies did not permit such feelings was no help whatsoever. Either she was the single wanton exception to the rule or well-bred young women were fed a pack of lies about sex. Thea strongly suspected the latter.

‘Sea air and the fact that you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep for at least two days,’ Rhys diagnosed. Apparently he could read some of her thoughts, but hopefully not all of them. ‘Still, this swell doesn’t appear to be upsetting you, so you might manage a few hours tonight.’

‘I agree, it is a positively pleasant motion, dip and rise. Very smooth.’ She ran her tongue over salty lips.

‘My lord, Lady Althea. There is dinner below if you would care to come down,’ Hodge announced.

Polly had been right, there was a distinct odour of something unpleasant below decks and the motion of the ship, when one couldn’t see the horizon, was far more noticeable than when she had been leaning on the rail. Thea took a plate of bread and cheese, a mug of tea, and went back on deck with a sigh of relief both for the fresh air and the interruption.

Rhys joined her as she perched on a barrel and sipped cautiously at the black brew. ‘Definitely better than down there,’ he said with a shudder, and bit into a slice of meat pie.

‘Rhys, why not find a wife now?’ He looked across, the pie still in his hand, and a chunk of pastry fell unheeded to the deck. Oh, goodness, whatever possessed me to blurt that out? Too late now to go back on the question. Thea ploughed on. ‘It will be the house-party season very soon, or you could go to Brighton. There would be plenty of opportunities to find an eligible young lady and then you could honeymoon on the Continent.’

‘It is too soon,’ he said. His expression did not invite her to continue.

Too soon? Six years? How long does it take to get over a broken heart? But if Rhys jilted me on the altar steps, would I feel able to marry another man even six years later? Probably not. He still loves her, then.

It felt like kicking his favourite hound, Rhys thought. Thea didn’t snap back or even show any sign that he had snubbed her, although he had an indefinable sense that she had withdrawn from him.

‘Of course, it was insensitive of me to ask,’ she said, each word laid down so carefully it might have been made of spun glass. ‘You are not fickle. You still love Serena. Marrying again, out of duty, will be difficult.’

Still love Serena? Of course not. He almost said it out loud before he realised that would shock Thea. She believed him faithful, steadfast, the sort of man who would love loyally until death, and somehow he couldn’t face the risk that she would think less of him if he admitted the truth.

It had taken six months, not six years, to come to his senses. Six months of heavy drinking, a succession of utterly unsatisfying amatory encounters and the crushing sense that if he wasn’t worthy of being loved, then he wasn’t worthy to behave like a gentleman, to care about his estates, to bother with his friends.

And then he had woken up one morning and asked why he was punishing himself. He had not driven Serena into Paul’s arms; she had been there all the time. She had deceived him, lied to him, used him. He knew then he was not going to drink himself into an early grave for the sake of a woman who had never loved him.

‘I meant that I need a holiday. I’ve been working hard on the estate with the new model farm, the changes to the tenants’ cottages, the improvements we’ve been making to the cropping and livestock systems. I just want a break, something completely different.’ He had also been burning the candle at both ends all Season and he was feeling utterly jaded with women, gaming… Not that he could tell Thea that.

Rhys took a swig of ale and watched Thea out of the corner of his eye as she chewed on her bread, apparently intent on digesting his words as thoroughly as her food.

What would she say if he told her the truth? I want all my wits about me before I select a woman who will not betray me, who will fulfil her part of the bargain, will prove to be the bland, undemanding countess that I will be able to coexist with for the rest of my life. But the whole damn thing feels so cold, so…mechanical, that I’m clutching at excuses to put it off.

He didn’t need to ask Thea’s opinion; he knew what it would be. She would frown a little, making a crease between the brows that were a shade darker than her hair. Then she would twiddle a strand of flyaway brown hair while she thought about it and finally she would tell him that he must wait until he found a woman to love and who loved him. Her obsession with love matches was the only irrational thing he had ever discovered about Thea.

If he waited to stray into the path of Cupid’s arrows, he would die a bachelor. No, he would decide on a wife on the basis of her suitability as a countess and the mother of his heir. She would have to be intelligent enough to be a pleasant companion and a good parent, of course. And she would be attractive enough to make sharing a bed no penance—he intended to take his marriage vows seriously—but really, beyond that, he was prepared to be flexible and businesslike about the matter.

The women he would be deciding between—or, rather, their fathers—would make their decision based on his title, his bloodlines and his estate. It would be rational, calm and safe on both sides. No messy emotions. No pretence of love. He had no intention of laying his own heart out to be trampled on again and he was wary of doing anything that would make an impressionable young woman fancy herself in love with him.

‘Yes, I see.’ Thea nodded at last, a firm little jerk of her head. ‘It is very sensible to take a holiday if you need a change.’

‘Are you cold? You shivered just then.’ They were both well wrapped up, but the wind was cutting across the deck, sending tendrils of her hair dancing. It was rather pretty, that soft brown. Not obvious, just…nice. He’d never noticed before. Rhys leaned forward and tucked a strand back behind her ear, and she shivered again. He really should not touch her, not until he was feeling more himself, he thought, and frowned.

‘I must be tired. I think I’ll retire for the night.’

‘Hodge has made up the chaise, by the look of it.’ The valet was pulling down the blinds as he backed out of the vehicle.

‘I’ll just have a word with Polly.’ Thea stood up and brushed at the skirts of the serviceable walking dress she was wearing. ‘Goodnight, Rhys.’ She leaned forward and, before he could react, planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you for bringing me. I’ll try not to be a nuisance.’

He must be forgiven for that idiotic moment on the quayside, he decided as he watched her making her way across the gently heaving deck, her skirts caught up tight to stop the wind tossing them.

She had developed some very feminine curves since he had last seen her, he realised as she vanished into the companionway. The memory of them pressed against his body was…stimulating.

Ridiculous chit. What on earth had possessed her to think those boy’s clothes would have been any protection at all once it had become light? It was fortunate that he had been home and she had not been out on the streets in the morning.

With a muttered curse Rhys got to his feet and went to see what Hodge was doing to make the carriage habitable for the night. This was Thea, for goodness’ sake! What was the matter with him? He was going to have to find some obliging female company when they reached Paris if a few days’ celibacy had this effect on him. Thea, indeed!

Hodge had created a snug nest for her with pillows and rugs. Thea took off her shoes and stockings, folded her cloak and lay down. How clever of Polly to suggest she take off her stays, she thought as she wriggled into a comfortable position. There was absolutely no reason why she could not get a perfectly good night’s sleep with the boat moving in such a soothing rhythm.

No reason at all, except that her foolish brain decided to worry about Rhys and his marriage plans. Not that he was going about finding a bride differently from most eligible gentlemen, she supposed, punching a pillow into shape. But this was Rhys, and he was too passionate, too involved, too…alive, to settle for a bland marriage of mutual convenience, surely?

If he would only take an interest in the young women themselves and not in their parentage and dowries, then he might find a soulmate, someone who could heal the wounds Serena had inflicted.

She tried to think what sort of young lady would suit him. Not blonde, of course. But she’d have to be pretty. And… Warm, rocked by the waves, Thea drifted off to sleep.

‘Ow!’ Thea let out a startled cry, more of confusion than pain. It was dark, her whole left side hurt from colliding with something hard and she had no idea where on earth she was. The surface she was lying on rose and fell and she thumped down again, her limbs tangled in blankets.

The chaise. I’m in the chaise on the deck of the ship and we must have hit a rock or something. Get out…. She scrabbled at the door catch but it wouldn’t open. I’m going to drown…. ‘Rhys!’