Chapter Seven #4
“There was,” Thea agreed. “She is a remarkable rider. Unfortunately, I have no control over whom Lord Lyon favors.” If she had, she would have pulled him away from Lady Sophie by now.
“She came here to win him,” Lord Corkindale answered. “Make no mistake of it. She will claim him.”
“I wish her happy hunting,” Thea replied, a comment that did not satisfy his lordship. He went off to repeat to his daughter what she’d said.
And Lord Corkindale wasn’t the only concerned parent.
After Thea had dismissed her maid but before she could climb into her bed, she was visited by Lady Montvale and Mrs. Pomfrey.
They knocked on her door together. Apparently, the threat of Lady Sophie had restored their friendship.
Their concerns were very much along the lines of Lord Corkindale’s, and again, Thea had little help she could offer.
“Lord Lyon is free to make his own decision.”
“But you must have some influence,” Mrs. Pomfrey insisted.
“When have you ever heard of the Lyon being easily influenced?” Thea said.
Annoyed with her response, the women left the room, their furious whispers of grievances following them out the door.
Thea sat on her bed with a sigh. Why had she ever agreed to this house party plan? It had been successful in the past, but this time, the stakes were too high. She’d never do it again. It was too stressful for all involved—except Neal.
She lay down with a yawn, but sleep eluded her. Sooner or later Neal should or would ask her opinion. And what would she say to him?
That the idea of marrying the silliest girl of the lot was ridiculous? Absolutely!
He wanted children. What kind of sons would such an airy girl give him?
Yes, that was the argument. She would appeal to Neal’s intelligence, knowing he would want the same for his children. Certainly any of the other candidates would be better than Lady Sophie.
Of course, the whole debate she was having with herself could prove fruitless. Neal might not ask her opinion, and she would be stewing about nothing.
With an impatient sound, Thea tossed the covers back. She needed a book or something to take her mind off the subject. Throwing on a dressing gown, she left the room.
A footman sat at a chair next to a candle. “May I help you, ma’am.”
“Can’t sleep,” she murmured. “I need a book.”
“Would you like a candle?”
“Yes, thank you.” She took the candle holder he offered and went down the stairs. The library was in the back of the house overlooking the garden.
Thea crossed to one of the bookshelves lining the wall, holding her candle up so she could see the titles—
A movement outside the window caught her attention. Taking a step closer, she saw a man’s silhouette against the moonlit garden.
Neal’s shadow.
There was no one else awake except for the two of them.
He stepped forward into the moonlight. He was wearing a shirt, opened at the neck, riding breeches and tall boots. He stood alone, a romantic, contemplative figure. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
Neal turned toward her, and Thea’s immediate reaction was to blow out the candle. She stepped away from the window, moving far enough that he couldn’t see her but she could watch him.
A terrible yearning rose in her. One she did not want to identify. That summer years ago, she’d lived for their meetings.
And now?
Now, she was a woman who’d been married, who understood desire and lust. She knew what she yearned for. She knew what she wanted. Her body ached for his touch, for him.
Thea shook her head and crossed her arms tight against her chest. Their lives had gone down different paths. Besides, if Neal had wanted her, he would have pursued.
He hadn’t.
He could pursue now. He wouldn’t.
And if she walked out into the night to him? If he opened his arms, would she be willing?
Thea turned and walked back to her room, her quest for a book forgotten.
Thea had been there in the library’s darkness.
Restless, feeling that the four walls of his room had been closing in on him, Neal had escaped out into the night garden, but he had not found any relief. He felt trapped. Closed in, even in the open air.
Then he’d caught sight of Thea in the library.
And he could breathe again.
She hadn’t lingered. He didn’t fool himself. He knew she had run from him. It was the right thing for her to do.
He’d run too if he could. Something was at work. Something over which he had no control and didn’t understand. He doubted if she understood as well.
This evening, he’d focused on Lady Sophie because she was simple and charming. She was also beautiful. The other young women were not only more competitive but also shrewder. He could feel them coveting him, his title and his money with their eyes.
But it was Thea he coveted. Thea, who effortlessly put the manners, the beauty, the personalities of these other women to shame. Thea, whose strength of character he admired.
Thea that he wanted to touch, to hold . . . to bed.
Margaret would tell him to leave now, but he couldn’t. God help him, he couldn’t.
There comes a time when every man must meet his destiny, and Neal realized his time was nigh.