Chapter Thirteen
Neal and Thea left for London late the afternoon the day after their marriage. Both of them were anxious to see the boys.
“Do you think the boys will be upset that we married?” Neal asked as they neared the city.
“I believe they will be very happy,” Thea said. “It has been a long time since they have had a male figure in their lives.”
“I don’t want them to think I am going to take over their father’s place.”
Thea almost laughed, but she stifled it.
“What is it?” Neal asked.
“They barely knew their father,” she confessed. She turned to face him. “Boyd and I spent most of our marriage apart.”
“Go on,” Neal said. “I admit I was curious, but I considered your marriage a private matter.”
“Don’t mistake me, Neal, I had strong feelings for him when I married him, or as strong as I could have for anyone at my age.
” She shook her head. “I was also very foolish, which many people pointed out to me after I ran away. Boyd was intelligent and handsome and seemed to genuinely care for me. He talked about how this country is divided by those who inherit their wealth and those who must work for it. I agreed with him. After all, I’d done nothing to earn my position in society, and yet I had all of these men from good families wishing to marry me.
Boyd made me want to stand on my own. He challenged me to do it. ”
“I can’t imagine your father took the match well.”
“I didn’t tell my father anything about it. Any time I ever expressed an opinion that wasn’t his, he practically raised the roof. Besides, he wished to marry me off to a man I could not abide. He was far older than myself.”
“Who was it?” Neal had to ask.
“The marquis of Tweedbury,” Thea answered.
Neal frowned. He knew the marquis. He was not fond of women. However, he would have been an excellent ally for the duke of Duruset. “You are lucky you didn’t marry him.”
“I know. He did marry. An earl’s daughter. She is remarkably unhappy and very indiscreet about her lovers. I would not want that for my life.”
“And was your marriage happy?” It was a question he’d wondered since seeing her again. She’d never criticized Boyd to him, and his interest was more than idle curiosity, although he’d not admit it.
It was a strange life he was living now.
He needed to keep up barriers to Thea’s charms, and yet it was harder and harder to do so.
His attraction to her was strong, and it wasn’t just lust. He trusted her.
He always had. At no time in their acquaintance had she been anything but honest, and it was still the same now.
She was a good friend . . . and an entertaining lover. Her passion matched his own.
“No, not even from the beginning, although we pretended.” She reached for the edge of the door handle and rubbed it with a gloved hand before saying, “Of course, I didn’t realize this at the time.
I was infatuated with Boyd because he was so different from the other men I’d known and, yes, that was some love—or at least as much as I had in me for a person who knew nothing of the world beyond London’s protected society.
For his part, he played a gallant suitor, and I thought he did care. ”
“But he didn’t?”
“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “He was greatly offended when my father sent the letter disowning me. He was even less pleased when Father died three years later and he discovered I had been left out of the will. I knew that my father meant what he said, but Boyd felt that since he felt I had been the favorite daughter, my father couldn’t possibly deny me. He did not know my father well.”
Neal was not surprised. Thea and her father had always clashed and, yes, the duke of Duruset had been proud of his daughter and had expected her to marry very well.
Now she had. He took her hand, lacing his fingers in hers.
“I didn’t know this at the time,” Thea continued, “but after my father’s death, Boyd went to my brother, Horace, the current duke. I believe he expected my brother to recognize me. Horace wouldn’t.”
“So money was the reason your marriage was unhappy?” Neal asked.
“That . . . and other reasons.”
Something in her voice told him she did not wish to speak further on the topic, but Neal had one more question. “Do your sons miss him?” he asked, pulling her closer. She smelled of the lily-scented soap Lady Palmer had offered her guests.
“Christopher was still only a baby when he died,” she said. “He barely remembers him, and Jonathan does not speak of him.” She pulled his hand up and around her head so that his arm was around her shoulder. “And perhaps that is good.”
She turned into him. Her breasts flattened against his chest as she kissed him, and any other questions Neal might have had fled his mind.
For the rest of the way to London, he learned the many ways one could make love in a coach.
That they had to keep quiet so that Bonner and the footman wouldn’t hear only heightened the pleasure.
For that reason, Neal was in very good spirits when they rolled into London. Their first stop was Lady Palmer’s house.
Mirabel had left early that morning, so she’d arrived well ahead of them. If she noticed that Neal and Thea appeared slightly mussed, she didn’t make a comment, but there was a secret smile hovering around her lips.
Thea’s sons were overjoyed to have her return. Neal held back as they rushed into their mother’s arms. In the privacy of the room overlooking the back garden, Thea sat her boys down and explained to them that she and Lord Lyon had married.
Jonathan, bright lad that he was, immediately understood that Neal was now related to him by marriage. Both boys turned to Neal, who accepted that as an invitation to join the small family group. He sat next to Thea.
With a great deal of consideration, Jonathan said, “What are we to call you, my lord?”
Neal had not thought of this. “I shall be your stepfather. I promise I will treat you as my own. What would you like to call me?”
“I want to call you Lyon,” Christopher declared. “Mrs. Clemmons was reading a story to us about a lion. He was a big cat, and he roars.” He showed what he meant by giving a loud roar.
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Ever since Mrs. Clemmons read that story, that is all he does.”
His brother’s response was to laugh and roar again.
Neal found himself laughing as well. He couldn’t help himself.
Christopher looked so proud of his new talent, and Jonathan was so aggrieved by it, that Neal was reminded of himself and Harry when they were younger.
Neal had forgotten about those days. That was before their father had burdened them with the curse and before the busyness of their lives had caught up with them.
“Roar once more,” Neal urged Christopher.
The boy shot a triumphant look at Jonathan and roared the loudest and best roar yet.
“Call me Lyon,” Neal said and held his hand out to each of the boys. They would be his sons. They would also be free of the curse. The realization was revolutionary. They had a future.
Jonathan solemnly placed his hand in Neal’s. Christopher copied him, an impish grin on his face. Jonathan would always see the serious side of life, and Christopher, well, he would be Jonathan’s Harry, and Neal couldn’t stop from pulling them both into his arms. He had sons.
Glory of all glories, they hugged him in return, while Thea stood to the side with the dreamiest glow of pride Neal had ever seen on anyone’s face. Of course, the only thing left to do was to include her in the hug.
“Shouldn’t your mother be in the hug?” Neal wondered.
“Join us, Mother,” Jonathan ordered, losing his earlier reserve and starting to show boyish eagerness.
Neal understood. The oldest always had to be the most cautious.
He’d have to make the first move with Jonathan.
Christopher, of course, acted according to however he felt at the moment. So like Harry.
Thea did as commanded, and Neal found his arms full of family. A pleasure he’d not ever known before settled around him, and Neal could have stayed embraced in their hugs forever.
His wife was more practical. “We must not be a burden to Lady Palmer any longer,” she said, breaking up the hug.
“Oh, poo,” Mirabel said. “I adore having company. Stay for dinner.”
Her offer was tempting. Neal had deliberately put off thinking of his sister and brother’s reaction to his marriage. He’d sent a messenger the day before to inform them of his intentions, including whom he was marrying. He anticipated a howl of protest from Harry.
However, sooner or later he had to face them, and it might as well be sooner. Mirabel gave them each a kiss as they parted company—even Neal.
The boys were excited to ride in the coach.
“Where are we going to live?” Jonathan asked.
“In my house,” Neal said.
Christopher’s eyes rounded with delight, and even Jonathan sat up straighter and looked out the window with anticipation.
Thea’s hand found Neal’s. She gave him a squeeze that said thank you. She was happy, and since making her happy made him happy, he raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her fingertips.
The Chattan town home was one of the largest in London. The step boasted a huge, carved stone portico and double doors of varnished oak.
This time Jonathan did not hold back his emotions as he climbed out of the coach onto the walk. “We’re living here?”
“Yes,” Neal said. “Welcome home.”
Both boys stood on the front step, their heads leaning back as they looked up at the portico, exclaiming over the size of the wrought-iron lamp hanging there.
Neal turned his attention to the front door. Usually a servant opened the door the moment a coach pulled up. However, it was still closed. Bonner was as surprised as Neal, although Neal didn’t want to say anything in front of Thea and her sons.