Regency Marriages. Elizabeth Rolls

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СКАЧАТЬ eyes opened wide. ‘Dorothea marry? Dear me, no. Such a sad story … I dare say you will recall she was betrothed to one of Chasewater’s younger sons?’

      Richard remembered that only too well. At not quite seventeen, Thea Winslow had been betrothed to the Honourable Nigel Lallerton, third son of the late Earl of Chasewater. As a gentleman set for a career in Parliament, naturally he required a well-dowered bride. Thea had been it.

      But Lallerton had died in a shooting accident.

      ‘I assumed she’d recovered from her disappointment and married,’ he said. He had been abroad himself for some years after that and had heard nothing more.

      Almeria’s metaphorical whiskers positively dripped cream. ‘Sadly, no, Richard. Such affecting loyalty! Naturally one sympathises with her, but, goodness! It must be several years since poor Nigel Lallerton died.’

      Richard stared. He remembered that Thea had retired from society after Lallerton’s death. Understandable if her affections had been engaged. But never to marry? Had she then cared for Nigel Lallerton so deeply that she had retired completely from society after he had died? He’d not had much time for Lallerton, himself … a bully, as he remembered. He stepped back from the thought. The man was dead after all. And perhaps Thea had seen a different side of him … Still, never to marry …

      Almeria spoke again. ‘She cannot mourn for ever and I dare say Aberfield considers the time right …’

      The sentence remained unfinished, but Richard had no difficulty filling the blanks: Thea Winslow could not be permitted to inter her heart or, more accurately, her hand in marriage, permanently in the grave. She must take a husband. Her father’s political ambition required it.

      ‘Of course she must marry,’ said Almeria, echoing his cynical thoughts. ‘Probably Aberfield would have brought her to town last year, had they not been in mourning for poor dear Lady Aberfield. ‘Tis positively unnatural for Dorothea to waste her life because her first choice met an untimely end!’

      Something about Almeria’s airy tone of voice sent awareness prickling through him, like a hare scenting the hounds.

      ‘Oh?’

      She sighed. The sort of sigh that would have reached to the back seats in Drury Lane. ‘Naturally Aberfield wishes her to make an advantageous match. Of course, Dorothea is not a beauty. She was used to be well enough, but at twenty-four she really is past marriageable age, and one must expect that the bloom has faded. Still, I dare say she will attract some offers.’

      The prickle intensified. ‘You are not envisaging me as an eligible suitor here, are you, Almeria?’ he asked bluntly.

      Almeria’s eyes widened. ‘Good heavens, no, Richard!’ she exclaimed. ‘Partial though I am, I cannot persuade myself that Aberfield would look on your suit at all favourably.’

      ‘My suit?’ Richard wondered if he had misheard. ‘My suit, did you say, Almeria? I wasn’t aware that I had one.’ Under the circumstances he considered the even tone he achieved did him great credit.

      ‘Of course not,’ said Almeria crossly. ‘How you do take one up! Naturally when Aberfield wrote to ask if I would chaperon Thea, I thought of you. After all, you were used to be fond enough of her.’

      ‘She was a child, Almeria,’ said Richard, striving to maintain his calm. ‘I wasn’t thinking of her in terms of a bride!’ In fact, he’d been disgusted at the announcement of the betrothal.

      Almeria waved dismissively. ‘Oh, well. No matter. I understand Aberfield has already put out feelers. He is looking for a political alliance to a man of far greater substance, you may be sure.’

      ‘How very sensible of him,’ he murmured, tamping down a sudden flicker of anger at the thought of Thea being used as the glue in a political union. Again.

      Apparently oblivious to the edge in his voice, Almeria went on to enumerate all the eligible men of rank and fortune who might reasonably be expected to have a chance of securing the daughter of an influential viscount. ‘For you know, she will arrive in town this afternoon, and I must be prepared,’ she said.

      Again an odd flicker. This time of interest. Aberfield House was just across Grosvenor Square. Perhaps Thea would call. It would be good to see her again …

      Aberfield House had not changed in the slightest in the eight years since Thea had seen it. Carnely the butler had a few more wrinkles, but otherwise she might have been stepping back in time. Thea checked her appearance in a pier glass in the hall as David knocked on the door of the library, reflecting on the futility of this even as she straightened her bonnet and tried to tuck a curl back into it. She was tired and travel stained, dusty from the journey. She wished that she could have gone to Arnsworth House first to change and wash, but apparently her father insisted on seeing her first. Perhaps it was better to get it over and done with. Besides, Lord Aberfield would find fault with her appearance, or, failing that, with her very existence no matter what she did. Grimly she reminded herself that even if Aberfield House had not altered, she had. The despairing young girl who had left here eight years earlier was gone.

      David’s light knock on the door was answered by a loud injunction to enter. She did so, reminding herself to keep her face blank, her eyes downcast.

      A swift glance located Lord Aberfield seated before the fire, one foot heavily bandaged, resting on a footstool. Thea uttered a mental curse: gout. He’d be in a foul mood.

      David escorted her over to a chair. He smiled at her and cast a warning sort of glance at their father.

      ‘Good afternoon, sir.’

      Aberfield shot a glare at David. ‘Took your damn time, didn’t you?’

      David looked amused. ‘Next time I’ll arrange winged horses, sir.’

      Aberfield scowled and turned his gaze to Thea. ‘Sit down. Hurry up. I’ve not got all day to waste on this. As for you, sirrah—’ he turned to his son ‘—you may wait outside to take her over to Almeria Arnsworth. You’ve no more to do here.’

      ‘I think not, sir,’ said David calmly. ‘I’ll stay.’ Grey eyes snapped fire.

      ‘The devil you will,’ said Aberfield. ‘You’ve interfered quite enough. Writing your lying letters.’

      A satisfied look of understanding came into David’s face. ‘So that’s it. He did receive my letters before he died!’

      ‘Out.’ The softness of Aberfield’s voice did not disguise his fury.

      ‘Go to hell, sir.’

      Thea blinked as she sat down. David’s tones were as polite as they had been when he bid their father good day, and she didn’t understand in the least what they were talking about. To whom had David written and what did it have to do with her coming to London?

      Unable to quell his only son and heir’s outright defiance, Aberfield snapped his attention back to Thea. ‘Get that mealy mouthed look off your face,’ he shot at her. ‘You don’t fool me, girl. I know what you—’

      ‘Enough!’ said David sharply.

      Aberfield’s eyes bulged, but he said only, СКАЧАТЬ