Regency Marriages: A Compromised Lady / Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride. Elizabeth Rolls

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      His mouth quirked. ‘Obviously.’ And before she could stop him, he had bent down for the note. ‘Here you—’ it was open, face up—’Good God!’ he exclaimed, staring at the note.

      Then he looked up and Thea’s stomach turned over as she met his eyes. Fury, sheer protective fury blazed there.

      Oh, God! If Richard tried to find out …

      For a moment the shocked silence held, then Richard spoke, scarcely recognising his own voice, soft, deadly. ‘Who the devil sent you this?’ He forced himself to consider the matter logically, controlling the choking rage. Last night’s note had disgusted him, but this! His fingers shook in the effort not to shred the note.

      He turned it over. Like his, the seal had been plain, the writing consisted of clumsy and ill-formed capitals … and directed very clearly to Thea. This piece of … of filth had been intended for her. As last night’s note had been directed straight to him. His fist clenched, crushing the note. His own note he might have ignored, but if he ever found out who had sent this—he’d serve them the same way. Slowly.

      ‘Who sent it?’ he repeated.

      ‘I don’t know.’ There was not the least tremor in her voice now and her eyes were steady and clear. ‘Myles brought it in. It’s nothing to fuss about, Richard. Just foolish spite.’ She essayed a faint laugh. ‘No doubt the rumours of my fortune inspired it. I’d burn it, but the fire isn’t lit.’

      Undoubtedly the fire was where it belonged. If he had not been watching her for a moment before he spoke and startled her, he might have believed her not to be upset. But he had seen the pallor of her face as she stared at the note, seen her hands trembling. She had been so lost in whatever emotion had gripped her that she had not even heard him enter the room. And now she was trying to hide it from him.

      Surely a piece of casual spite would not strike to the heart like that? She had looked devastated. Had she heard the whispers the previous night? Should he mention his own note? Common sense said he should. But …

      ‘Do you receive many letters like that?’

      ‘No! Give it back, Richard. I’ll burn it later.’

      ‘I’ll deal with it,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you touching it again.’ The thought of a piece of vileness like this coming anywhere near her offended him. He put the crumpled note in his pocket.

      Flushing, she met his gaze. ‘I thought you were out.’

      As an attempt to change the subject it was pitiful. ‘I came home,’ he said. ‘Thea, that note—’

      ‘Please—no,’ she interrupted. ‘I know what you would say—that I ought to find out who sent it, but really, Richard, it doesn’t matter. Just burn it for me. It’s just someone … someone who doesn’t like me, I suppose. Someone … very unhappy.’

      ‘How do you work that out?’ he growled.

      Her eyes dropped. ‘Oh, well … can you imagine a happy person sending a note like that?’

      He couldn’t, of course. There were times when feminine intuition was absolutely irrefutable. Only he could have sworn she meant something far more specific. Something personal. That she knew who had sent it, or at least suspected.

      ‘Leave it, Richard,’ she urged. ‘There’s no point making a fuss. It was horrid and I admit gave me quite a shock, but that’s all.’ She smiled at him, eyes steady. ‘What brought you in here?’

      Another attempt to change the subject.

      He didn’t like it. Not one little bit. Every instinct told him that Thea was deeply shaken, that her increasing calm was a façade, that if she knew of the note he had received she would be even more upset. For now he would accept her reticence. It seemed more important to distract her from the vile note. And definitely more important to distract her from wondering what he might do about it.

      ‘What brought me in here?’ He smiled. ‘Myles told me you were here and he swears that Almeria is out.’ The mess of ink and tea caught his eye and he reached out to ring the bell. ‘So I thought it would be safe to have a game of chess without giving her any encouragement.’

      ‘Chess? In here? Do you … do you think that’s wise?’ Suddenly self-conscious, she said, ‘If Lady Arnsworth has some idea … that is, that we … that we—’

      She broke off and Richard had to suppress a grin.

      ‘That we might make a match of it?’ he suggested helpfully. ‘So she’s spoken to you about it, has she?’

      She flushed. ‘She didn’t precisely say anything to me. Only …’

      Richard laughed. ‘Didn’t she? You escaped lightly. She said a great deal to me. Very precisely and in detail. You must know that Almeria has been trying to marry me off to the nearest available fortune for the past ten years!’

      Something flickered in her face. Pain? This was not the moment to suggest to her that maybe they should give some thought to Almeria’s matchmaking. Not when she had just stopped calling him sir with every second breath. Instead, he said gently, ‘Thea, we need not consider it. You must know that I would never court any woman for her fortune, let alone you. We can still be friends, can we not? Despite Almeria’s meddling?’

      For a moment Thea hesitated. Friends … it would be safer not … Yet, unbidden, some long-buried, unrecognisable sensation unfurled within her. She nodded. ‘Friends. Yes.’

      He smiled. ‘Good. Then leave Miss Winslow in the drawing room where she belongs.’ He rose, stepped carefully over the mess of ink and broken glass and china and went over to a large, old-fashioned chest under the window. ‘Now, let’s see …’

       Leave Miss Winslow in the drawing room …

      ‘What do you mean?’

      He shot her a glance. ‘Miss Winslow is all very well for the rest of the world. But I’ve always been quite fond of Thea.’

      He knelt down with a muttered curse and pulled out the bottom drawer. ‘Ah hah! Here we are.’

      Despite her confusion, Thea felt the unaccustomed smile curving her lips, warming her heart. He had found the old chess set he had taught her to play with. And there in the corner, half-hidden behind a fire screen, was the little chess table.

      That sensation inside her stirred again, and this time she recognised it with shock. It was happiness. She had been so utterly determined to enjoy herself, even if she had to pretend, and here happiness had been quietly waiting within to be let out. Along with the Thea he said he was fond of? Was she waiting to escape too?

      Automatically the old words of challenge rose to her lips. ‘No quarter? No chivalry?’

      His answering smile flashed, lighting the dark brown eyes. ‘To the death!’

      Together they set out the pieces, the memories of all the times they had done this stretching back and forth between them.

      ‘You were about five when I taught you how to do this,’ said Richard.

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