Chapter 2
HAWTON MANOR
There was a very large spider lurking behind the library shelves, crouching at eye level with Thalia. It stared at her with distinct annoyance. She stayed as still as she could so as not to disturb it.
Really, its annoyance was warranted. Thalia was the one who’d come blundering into its home, destroying a painstakingly constructed spiderweb as she shoved herself behind the shelves.
There was barely enough space for her between the shelves and the wall, even if she held her breath. Dust and cobwebs gathered in abundance. There would doubtless be more spiders beyond the one currently glaring at her.
Voices drifted from the hallway outside, the very same voices that had driven her into her hiding place.
“… in here, I imagine. She loves to read. But then, you are not opposed to reading, are you, Mr. Pembroke?”
A male voice grunted absently. “No, assuming that it does not get in the way of more serious pursuits. I daresay that a married woman would have little time for reading.”
The footsteps grew louder. Thalia held her breath as two men entered the library, passing only a few feet away from her hiding place.
They would see her usual chair vacant, with a cooling cup of tea resting on the low table beside it. And, of course, her book with a strip of ribbon to mark her place.
No, she hadn’t used ribbon to mark her place. She had used her dance card.
Foolish, she chastised herself. But then, there were no names on her dance card.
“Oh,” came her brother’s voice, faintly surprised. “I thought she might be in here. I didn’t see her in the ballroom.”
“Is she planning to join at all?” Mr. Pembroke asked, sounding faintly annoyed.
“Of course,” her brother reassured him at once.
“This musical evening is all to showcase her talents, after all. Our stepmother has a megrim tonight, and so unfortunately must keep to her bed. I daresay Thalia is just a little nervous without Augusta beside her, ha-ha. You’ll be mesmerized, I guarantee it. ”
“I shall look forward to it,” Mr. Pembroke answered, and this time he sounded a little mollified.
Heavy footsteps moved towards the doorway, and Thalia heard them go down the hallway, fading to nothing. She let out a faint sigh of relief. Silence filled the room, but she didn’t risk stepping out just yet.
Jonathan would no doubt have another trick up his sleeve.
Sure enough, after a few taut minutes had passed, an angry, hissing voice came from the doorway, dangerously close to her hiding place. “Thalia! Thalia, are you in here?”
She said nothing and imagined her brother scanning the dark bookshelves, trying to catch a glimpse of movement.
With only her candle to light up the huge library, most of the room would be cast into shadow.
She could be anywhere, and he would probably not imagine that she was only a few feet away from him.
After another lengthy pause, he heaved a sigh.
“Join the rest of the party in the ballroom,” he ordered tersely.
“You have exactly two minutes, or I shall have the servants comb this room and drag you out in front of all our guests. And if you remain hidden and miss your recital, I shall have the library door locked and your books taken from you for the foreseeable future.”
He didn’t wait for a response and stormed out of the room.
Thalia waited a few more minutes, until she was entirely sure he had gone, then eased herself out of her hiding place, destroying the rest of the spider’s cobweb as she did so. The spider waved its front legs. She imagined that it was shaking its fists at her.
Tendrils of cobweb and dust clung to her dress, and she cursed herself, brushing it off as best she could.
The dress was one that Jonathan had bought for her, and she privately thought that it made her look like a fluffy mint meringue.
Green did look very good on her, but the endless flounces and ruffles on the skirt resembled nothing so much as a heavily decorated cake.
A curl had come loose, hanging down to tickle her neck, and she angrily tucked it back.
I haven’t bought myself very much time. Jonathan really will lock the library door if I don’t obey. He’s done it before. At least I managed to avoid speaking to Mr. Pembroke.
She was fairly sure that she could hide some of her books from him, but that wasn’t the point. She would have to leave her safe place. There was nothing for it.
One more month, she reminded herself, fingers curling into tight fists. Only one more month, and then I am free. Free to do what I like, free to help St. Sarah’s, free to read and write and never attend a ball again.
One more month.
But for now, she would have to obey her brother.
As a last touch, Thalia took off her spectacles, brushing the dust from them. Squaring her shoulders and steeling herself, she strode out of the library and down the hall that led to the ballroom.
Heat, light, and noise washed over her as she entered.
The ballroom was lit up with countless candles, a chandelier throwing sparkling light on the guests.
People milled everywhere, talking incessantly, laughing about nothing, and sipping punch.
Red velvet chairs were set out in front of a low platform where the performers would show their talents.
Jonathan had planned it all, making sure that there were no other pretty young women to compete with her on the stage.
It hardly mattered, in her opinion. No man married a woman simply because she yowled and yammered out a song on a low platform. There were plenty of pretty women in the audience.
Besides, she did not want to marry.
One more month.
As she slipped gingerly through the room, she spotted her brother making his way to the platform. He would have some dull speech prepared, and then he would invite her to the stage to start the performances. She found a corner and tucked herself into it, waiting.
Other guests passed by, barely sparing her a second look. Some of the faces she recognized, but most she did not. They would be Jonathan’s friends or people he wished would become his friends.
Several of the ladies seemed to be whispering together, more and more gathering into a little group in the corner. They shot quick, excited looks at something. No, someone.
Frowning, Thalia followed their gazes. She recognized the man at once. At least, she recognized him from the pictures she had seen of him. Some ladies used to carry miniatures of his likeness in their gloves, taking them out and giggling over them in private with their friends.
Thalia had not been introduced to him, of course. She imagined that very few respectable ladies had been introduced to the Duke of Thornhill, the most notorious rake of the ton.
He stood with a couple of friends, a remarkably beautiful young woman with a hand on her belly, arm in arm with a gentleman who must be her husband. He glanced around with a blank face, as if bored with everything.
Why did he come? Jonathan always invites him to our parties because it would be a great thing to have a duke attend. But he never comes. Why is today different?
He turned, and now she could get a better look at his features.
Well, the miniatures had not done him justice.
He had strong features, heavy dark eyebrows, and impossibly thick black hair waving back from his forehead.
His mouth was set in a grim line, and somehow it seemed impossible for his face to ever relax into a smile.
Large, black-lashed hazel eyes peered out at the world, a spot of warmth in an otherwise unforgiving face.
He was not yet nine-and-twenty, she’d heard, but he seemed simultaneously older and younger.
As she watched, a pair of young women floated by, staring up at him with the sort of trepidation one might inspect a lion newly released from its cage. When his gaze landed on them, one girl muffled a squeak and charged away through the crowd, dragging her unfortunate friend behind her.
The corner of the Duke’s mouth twitched. Was that a smile? No, not a proper one.
He towered above most men in the crowd. She bit back a smile of her own as a dandy stalked past him in his heeled shoes, the top of his head barely level with the Duke’s chin. The dandy threw him an enraged look and seemed to rise on his toes to seem larger.
The Duke did not even favor him with a glance.
Then his gaze raked the crowd in her direction. Despite knowing that he could not see her and would certainly not care to look at her if he did, Thalia found herself shrinking back. Her heart pounded, blood thrumming in her ears, and anxiety of all things coiled in her gut.
Well, well, she thought angrily. And you call yourself a rational woman?
Here you are, acting like a giddy debutante in the presence of a man like this.
Why, he’d ruin you as soon as look at you!
Everybody knows that sensible women steer clear of the Duke.
He can destroy a woman’s life with half a word.
That was most probably exaggerated, but there was no denying the real danger that such a man could pose. Why, getting caught alone in a room with him would see her turned out of Society without delay. He, of course, would bear no consequence besides mild censure, and perhaps fewer invitations.
There was no more time to debate the morals of the man because at that moment, Jonathan began to speak. The guests turned obediently towards the platform.
That was her cue to prepare herself.
“Christian, are you even listening to me?”
Christian tore his gaze away from the ostentatious platform at the opposite end of the room. “Hm?”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “If we hadn’t been friends for years, I would march off and leave you to fend for yourself,” he muttered. “Why are you even here? You and the Marquess are not friends, are you?”
“Certainly not.”
Edwin’s wife, Daphne, chuckled, looping her arm through his. “Leave Christian alone, Edwin. He’s simply here to pick up the latest gossip. Isn’t that right?”
Christian flashed her a grin. “Something like that.”