Regency Rogues: Unlacing The Forbidden. Louise Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ had to name Papa as a trustee, for it would have seemed very strange if she had not, but she put in the clause about me only needing the permission of two of them for major decisions in order to get around him.’

      She poured another cup of tea, ravenous and thirsty now that her immediate worries about finding Rhys at home were laid to rest. ‘One of the others is the younger Mr Heale, the son of Grandmother’s solicitor. I have spoken to him and he is perfectly agreeable to my taking control. I have his letter to that effect. So long as Papa does not realise exactly what I am about and try to influence him…’ She touched the packet over her heart and felt the crisp, reassuring crackle of parchment. Surely her father’s bullying could not negate that letter? ‘My other trustee is Godmama Agnes.’

      ‘Godmama. Now, she would approve of you having control of your fortune.’ The brandy seemed to be having no serious effect on Rhys’s understanding, or perhaps the fumes were clearing. ‘Although what you’ll do with it at your age…’

      He was paying attention, even if he still seemed to believe she was sixteen, or incapable of making decisions. Thea took a sustaining gulp of tea, then reached for another scone. It had been a long time since breakfast at Longley Park and a snatched bun at the midafternoon change of horses.

      ‘Has it ever occurred to you how fortunate we have been in our godmother?’ Rhys asked. The thought of Lady Hughson was enough to curve his lips into a smile.

      ‘Daily,’ Thea agreed fervently. ‘When we were all children I never gave it a thought, but now I see how lucky we were that she turned her unhappiness into pleasure in caring for her godchildren.’ Godmama’s home had been the only place she had experienced love and warmth.

      ‘The fifteen little lambs in Agnes’s personal flock?’

      ‘Exactly. She must have loved her husband very much, then she lost him so young, before they could have children.’

      Rhys gave a grunt of agreement. ‘But that is history and if you ran, sorry, left, home to go to her, she’s not in London. Have you just discovered that? Is that why you came to me?’ The sleepy blue eyes studied her over the rim of his glass.

      ‘I knew she was not in town and I dared not write and risk her reply falling into Papa’s hands. She’s in Venice. That is why I came straight here. As soon as I discovered where she was and what you were planning…’ This was the tricky part. Would it help that Rhys was castaway?

      He was not drunk enough to miss her meaning or perhaps he just knew her too well. ‘Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not coming with me to the Continent. It is impossible, impractical, outrageous.’

      ‘Have you become such a conventional prude that you cannot help an old friend?’ she demanded. The old Rhys would rise to that lure.

      ‘I am not conventional.’ Rightly taking her words as an insult, Rhys banged the glass down, slopping brandy onto the highly polished mahogany. The smell was a physical reminder of what she was dealing with. ‘Nor am I a prude. Revolting word. Like prunes and…’ He shook his head as though to jerk his thoughts back on course. ‘You cannot go gallivanting about Europe with a man you are not married to. Think of the scandal.’

      ‘A scandal only if I am recognised, and who is going to do that? I will be veiled and anyone who sees us will assume I am your mistress.’ He rolled his eyes, as well he might. She was hardly mistress material, veil or no veil. ‘Frankly, I do not care if I am ruined. It can’t make things any worse. Rhys, I am not asking to be taken about as though I was on an expedition of pleasure, merely to be transported. I cannot go by myself, not easily, although if you do not help me then I will hire a courier and a maid and attempt it.’

      ‘Using what for money?’ he demanded. ‘Or do you expect me to lend you the funds to ruin yourself with?’

      ‘Certainly not. But my life will be wrecked if I have to stay.’ He looked decidedly unconvinced. ‘I have eighteen months’ allowance with me.’ The bundles of notes and the coins sewn into her underwear had kept her warm and comforted her with their solid presence throughout the long journey.

      ‘I suppose your father handed it over without question?’ There was the faintest hint of a twitch at the corner of his mouth. It gave her some hope that the old Rhys, the carefree, reckless boy who was up for any lark, was still lurking somewhere inside this rather formidable man.

      ‘Of course not. I have not spent more than a few pounds of my allowance for three months. The rest I took from the money box in Papa’s study. I left a proper receipt.’

      ‘And who taught you to pick locks, madam?’

      ‘You did.’

      ‘The devil! I can’t deny it.’ He did grin then. ‘You were very good at it, I recall. Remember the day when you opened Godmama’s desk drawer and rescued my catapult? And I had a perfect alibi, clearing up under the nose of the head gardener after I broke three windows in the conservatory.’

      ‘You said that you would be for ever in my debt.’ She did not make the mistake of smiling triumphantly.

      ‘I think I was thirteen at the time,’ Rhys said. ‘That is a very long time to remember a debt.’

      ‘Surely a gentleman never forgets one, especially to a lady.’ His eyes flickered over her appalling clothes, but he refrained from comment. ‘You have three choices, Rhys. Take me with you, leave me to my own devices in London or send me back to Papa.’ Thea smiled to reduce the bluntness of her demand. ‘Think of it as one last adventure. Or don’t you dare?’

      He shook his head at her, then winced as his eyes crossed. ‘Do not think you are going to provoke me that way. I am twenty-eight, Thea, much too old for that nonsense.’

      Rhys was not too old for anything, she thought as she concentrated on keeping her face open and ingenuous. He looked perfect for one last adventure, one last dream. ‘Please?’

      It had never failed before. She had no idea why, of all the group of godchildren who had spent their long summers with Lady Hughson, she was the one who could always wheedle Rhys into doing anything she asked. Her, ordinary little Althea, not the other boys, not even Serena, the blue-eyed beauty he had fallen in love with.

      ‘I must be mad.’ She held her breath as he took a long swallow of brandy, his Adam’s apple moving in the muscled column of his throat. ‘I’ll take you. But you had better behave, brat, or you’ll be on the first boat home.’

       Chapter Two

      Rhys might have been foxed, but he could still organise his affairs with an autocratic authority. Hurrying upstairs to get changed, a sleepy maid at her heels, Thea recognised the development of the charm she remembered from years before. Then he would smile, explain, persuade—and things happened as the young Earl of Palgrave desired them. Everything except his marriage.

      As an adult he still smiled, but he had no need for persuasion, it seemed. What his lordship ordered, happened. Now a travelling carriage was waiting behind the chaise in which she sat, clad in the plain, crumpled gown and cloak she had pulled from her portmanteau. A startled housemaid had received an unexpected promotion to lady’s attendant and was chattering excitedly with Rhys’s valet, Hodge, while the remainder of the luggage was packed into the carriage.

      Thea СКАЧАТЬ