Сила разума для детей. Джон Кехо

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      Delivered with punctilious formality to the custody of her maid, Thea waited until the parlour door had closed, then threw bonnet, reticule and finally herself onto the plush-covered sofa.

      ‘Did the sight of the sea upset you, my lady?’ Polly scooped up the scattered things and began to roll the bonnet ribbons neatly. ‘I’m used to it, but I know many folks get proper queasy just looking at it.’ Thea’s silence seemed to make no impression as she chatted on. ‘Mr Hodge says as how his lordship’s taking the carriages over on deck. Now, that’ll be the place for you to sleep, my lady. The chaise with the window open. Fresh air’s what you need. Me, I like it nice and snug down below and I’m used to the smell of the bilges, what with being brought up on me dad’s sailing barge on the Thames.’

      ‘Really?’ Thea made herself listen. It was ridiculous to sit there panicking—besides, what Polly said made sense. ‘I’ll do that, then. The chaise seats convert into a bed.’

      ‘If you’ll take my advice, my lady, you have a nice wash now and leave off your stays when you dress again. That way you can lie down and be properly comfy.’

      No stays? It sounded rather...loose. A huff of laughter escaped her at the unintended pun. Loose or not, it also sounded exceedingly sensible, and she could always wrap her cloak around her so any lack of support was not noticeable. Not that there was anything wrong with her figure that made stays a necessity. It was a perfectly nice, perfectly ordinary figure that went in and out where it should. Nothing jiggled unnecessarily, there were no scrawny bits. Perfectly ordinary...

      ‘That was a big sigh, my lady. You’ll be tired, I’ll wager. I’ll ring for the hot water and you have a little rest.’

      Polly bustled out and Thea sat quite still and kept her hands folded in her lap, nowhere near her lips that tingled as though Rhys’s mouth had touched them.

      * * *

      Of all the damn-fool things to have done, embracing Thea came top of the list by a country mile. What had possessed him? The only consolation was that he had not kissed her. Rhys strode along the quayside past a group of loitering labourers who stepped back sharply at his approach.

      He was scowling. Rhys unclenched his teeth and slowed his pace. Poor girl, she must have been appalled to find herself being clutched like that by her old friend, the man she so obviously trusted. No wonder Thea had snapped at him. It had never occurred to him to think of her in that light and then, suddenly, there she was in his arms, laughing up at him, and all he was conscious of was warm soft curves pressed against him and smiling lips and the faint scent of roses, and his treacherous body had reacted.

      And she had felt it and had understood what was happening. Twenty-two! He still could not get his head around the fact that she was an adult—although when she was in his arms he’d had no trouble with the concept.

      Thea had been too shocked to move, he thought, heaping hot coals on his conscience. Why, she hadn’t even turned her head away. Her mouth had been... Stop it! Even now, thinking about it, he was growing hard, to his shame. Thea. Hell, he might have kissed her. He might be an arrant flirt, but he never trifled with virgins. Never.

      ‘My lord?’

      Rhys found himself at the foot of a crane alongside a sturdy hoy. With the tide full, its deck was on the level of the quayside and a blue-coated man with his hat pushed to the back of his head was standing, hands on hips, studying him. Men were leading away the teams from the carriages and removing the shafts under the watchful eye of Tom Felling, the coachman.

      ‘I am Lord Palgrave. Are you Captain Wilmott?’

      ‘I am, my lord, and this is the Nancy Rose all ready to take you to Dieppe in an hour.’

      ‘How long will the crossing take?’

      The captain squinted up at the sky. ‘Twenty-four hours, give or take.’

      ‘Give or take what?’ Rhys demanded. Twenty-four hours cooped up on a boat with an embarrassed, angry woman was probably fitting penance, but he could do without the uncertainty.

      ‘Give or take sudden changes in the weather, accidents to the sails or rigging or getting stopped and searched by the coastguard,’ Harris said. ‘Acts of God, men overboard, collisions with whales...’

      Rhys bit his tongue. The man was master of his own vessel and wouldn’t take kindly to imperious orders to get a move on. ‘Try to avoid the whales,’ he said with a smile to show he knew it was a joke. I hope it was, he thought as he strolled over to watch the men fixing ropes to the chaise to attach it to the crane.

      There was something very compelling about watching experts working. Within half an hour the carriages were on deck and were being lashed down and the harness and shafts stowed. Rhys, temper restored, walked back to collect his party. The only possible approach was to act as though nothing had happened.

      * * *

      Thea, he found, was at least as good an actor as he was. ‘Polly is an experienced sailor,’ she remarked as they left the inn, a lad with a barrow trundling their hand luggage behind them. ‘She advises that I sleep in the chaise in order to benefit from the fresh air. Will that inconvenience you, my lord?’

      He echoed her tone of careful formality in front of the servants. ‘Not at all, Lady Althea. She will be joining you, I collect?’

      ‘She says she prefers to be below decks. There are no other passengers on board, are there? Surely I will be quite safe alone.’

      ‘I will sleep in the carriage with Hodge. You have only to call out if you feel alarmed, but you will be quite secure.’

      ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but if I might spend the night below decks I would appreciate it. I don’t rightly fancy being up on the top like that.’ The valet was wearing his usual poker face and Rhys wondered whether it was fear of the sea or the company of Polly that motivated him.

      ‘As you will, Hodge. Make certain there are blankets and pillows for Lady Althea.’

      He helped Thea to the foot of the gangplank, then let the sailor stationed on deck take her hand to guide her safely onto the deck. Same old Thea, he thought with a rush of affection. Sensible, level-headed, brave enough not to flinch at the narrow bridge of wooden planks, rising and falling over the drop to the water.

      Ridiculous to worry that she would be affected by that moment on the quayside. In six years he had forgotten what she was like—intelligent, loyal, full of fun and thoroughly rational. Until she was seized by some madcap idea, and then she was unstoppable.

      Even during those awkward years when all the little girls he knew suddenly transformed into mystifying, alarming, thrilling creatures who left him hot, bothered and, ultimately, falling in love with one of them, Thea had stayed an honorary boy, even with her hems down and her hair up.

      She had never giggled at him or ruthlessly used him to practise the arts of flirtation or reduced him to stammering incoherence with one look from beneath fluttering lashes. Good old tomboy Thea. No wonder she never received an offer. Rhys rested his elbows on the rail next to her. ‘Off we go on our adventure.’

      Her answering smile was not the carefree grin of the young Thea. There were layers he could not read, a tension about her that he supposed was partly anxiety and partly tiredness. But СКАЧАТЬ