Chapter Eight #2
“But isn’t that what he wants?” Mirabel pointed out.
“A woman that he can’t possibly like? Once Lyon hears of this, I assume from what I’ve observed of his character, he will be disgusted.
” She shook her head. “Frankly, Thea, I sat at the breakfast table this morning, watching faces as you said Lady Sophie wasn’t feeling well, and no one seemed concerned.
In fact, a few acted quite pleased with the information. I found it unsettling.”
“Mirabel, this can’t be the first time you’ve realized how petty and selfish people can be.”
“I don’t live my life that way. Why should I notice?”
A new suspicion was brewing in Thea’s mind. “It is a bit too fortunate that Lady Sophie would take ill. She appeared the picture of health yesterday.”
“No,” Mirabel said, drawing out the word as if to deny it. “Do you suspect someone made her sick? How could someone do that?”
“I don’t know. It does sound far-fetched. Poison?”
“But these people are the cream of the ton. Thea, they are respectable people.”
“Entitled? Yes. Respectable? Mirabel, don’t be naive.
Marrying Lyon would be a boon to any of these families.
You can never tell where a person is in life just by the surface.
They could be in debt or wanting Lyon’s connections for their own use.
His money will fill their coffers, his prestige will burnish their stars.
You should have met some of the men my father wanted to marry me off to—codgers and his cronies—and he was galloping out the gate to do so.
He had a number of schemes to draw me to the attention of the men he’d chosen.
Of course, the thought of seeing any of them naked was enough to make me run into Boyd’s arms.”
“Lyon wouldn’t hurt the eyes naked.”
Mirabel’s droll observation brought an image to Thea’s mind that almost sizzled her brain and brought a flush to her cheeks.
It had been a long time since she’d had a lustful thought.
She’d been too busy trying to keep her small family fed and safe.
Now, it was as if a part of her tamped down and kept dormant suddenly sprang to life.
She rose from the divan and took a step away. “Stop this.”
“What?” Mirabel asked, her eyes rounding in innocence.
“Attempting to put us together. It won’t work.” Thea didn’t know if she was saying this for Mirabel’s benefit or her own.
“It could. You must let yourself believe.”
“There is nothing to believe,” Thea protested. And yet a part deep inside her wistfully wondered whether Mirabel’s claim was true.
“I think he likes you too much. He always stays an arm’s distance away from you.”
“And that means what?”
“That he is afraid to go closer,” Mirabel explained, as if it should have been obvious. “Truly, Thea, you can’t see the signs? Or are you so busy trying to stay away from him you don’t notice?”
“He treats me with polite respect. Nothing more; nothing less.”
“He likes you—”
“Mirabel, no more of that.” Thea walked off before her friend could toss in a final “He likes you,” something she might have heard whispered as she climbed the stairs.
She went to check on Lady Sophie. She was not anxious to keep company with the Carpsleys, not after Lady Carpsley’s threat, but her curiosity had been piqued.
What if someone had given Lady Sophie something to make her ill?
The suggestion was worth a question or two.
Lord Carpsley was taking an afternoon snooze in a comfortable chair in a corner of the room. Lady Carpsley was reading to her daughter. Lady Sophie looked like a beautiful, pale waif resting in the middle of the feather pillows and downy comforters.
“Are you feeling any better?” Thea asked.
Lady Sophie turned mournful eyes to her. “They will all be crowding around him now. He was interested in me, and I lost him.” Her fingers twisted the sheets in her agitation.
“Your health is more important than this nonsense,” Thea said soothingly.
“Besides, Mrs. Martin is going to see that Lord Lyon doesn’t forget his interest in you, aren’t you?” Lady Carpsley finished, turning to Thea with a look that her ladyship expected to be obeyed.
“He won’t forget Lady Sophie,” Thea allowed without committing herself. “Have you had anything to eat? Would you like a bowl of broth?”
Lady Sophie pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No, I can’t eat anything.”
“When did you last eat?” Thea wondered, laying a hand on the girl’s brow. It was cool. She would recover. She was probably just weak from being ill.
“Dinner,” Lady Sophie said.
“And nothing else?”
“No.”
“Did you sleep well last night?” Thea asked.
“I did until I became ill.” Lady Sophie sighed heavily. “I wasn’t feeling terribly the thing earlier in the day yesterday. Just a little queasy.”
“Her monthly,” Lady Carpsley said, leaning toward Thea as she divulged this information, as if she didn’t want the sleeping Lord Carpsley to overhear.
“Mother gave me a troche to settle me. I told her I was so nervous with excitement I didn’t think I could sleep.”
“And she must sleep!” Lady Carpsley declared. “We need her looking fresh.”
“A troche?” Thea questioned.
“Yes,” Lady Carpsley answered. “Lord Corkindale gave it to me. Said it always settles his daughter’s nerves.
He is such a kind man. The others are biddies, spiteful and competitive.
Lord Corkindale is very much a gentleman and understands fair play.
He told me he can see Lord Lyon has developed a fondness for Sophie.
He was regretful his lordship didn’t favor his daughter, but it is what it is. ”
“Lord Corkindale said this?” Thea repeated in disbelief.
“He was very supportive. Told me to have my daughter let the troche dissolve slowly in her mouth. And it did settle you down, didn’t it, Sophie? Of course, what we didn’t know is that she was taking frightfully ill. Maybe I should have asked him for another to give her.”
And maybe Lord Corkindale had dispensed with his daughter’s competition along with that troche.
Thea forced a smile. “Please let us know if there is anything you need, Lady Sophie.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Martin,” the girl said, but then added, “have they returned from the picnic yet?”
“They have not yet returned, Lady Sophie. However, don’t be anxious. Lord Lyon’s character is not a shallow one,” Thea said.
“But he is male,” Lady Carpsley said. “They can’t help themselves. Even that one,” she finished, rolling her eyes in her sleeping husband’s direction. She sighed. “No, I prefer to put my faith in you.”
Thea did not appreciate the subtle reminder of what was at stake if Lyon failed to offer for Lady Sophie. She left the room. As she was coming downstairs, the picnickers were just returning.
Lady Lila had her hands, both of them, around Neal’s arm, and her father appeared very happy.
The Montvales stormed up the stairs past Thea without so much as a passing glance.
Plastering a smile to her face, Thea greeted those in the hallway. “I take it you enjoyed yourselves?” Thea asked.
“I believe we did,” Neal answered. “How is Lady Sophie?”
Thea’s smile grew tighter. “She might be joining us for dinner.”
“That’s wonderful,” Lady Lila said with a sweetness that had to have been false. There was nothing “sweet” about her at all. In fact, Thea had chosen her for her callousness.
Lord Corkindale came up to their group. “That was an excellent adventure. I’m ready for my supper now.”
Mrs. Pomfrey came up beside Thea. “The ruins were nothing special,” she said dismissively and then turned to Lady Lila. “I hope that chafing on your cheeks improves. The sun can be so harsh on a lady’s skin.”
“My cheeks aren’t chafed,” Lady Lila countered.
“If you were my daughter,” Mrs. Pomfrey said, putting a motherly tone behind her words, “I would advise you to run upstairs quickly and have your maid rub cream in them without delay.”
“Nonsense,” Lord Corkindale answered, growing blustery. “My daughter is the picture of health. Ruddy cheeks is good on a girl.”
“Ruddy?” Lady Lila repeated.
“I mean you have some good color to your face,” her father tried to explain, but the damage had been done, and Mrs. Pomfrey didn’t hesitate to capitalize on it.
“Well, if you were my daughter . . .” She let her voice drift with the obvious implication.
Lady Lila pretended to shrug off the suggestion, but a beat later said, “I really should go upstairs and dress for dinner.” She turned to Lord Lyon, gave him a dreamy smile. “Thank you for your help this afternoon, my lord. I am in your debt.” Honey dripped from every syllable.
“It was nothing, my lady,” Neal said. She smiled at him again and went upstairs, the sway of her hips a beckoning call—and Thea had an irrational urge to charge right up behind her, grab her arm and give her a shake.
“Harumph,” Mrs. Pomfrey said as if echoing Thea’s sentiments.
With the exit of his daughter, Lord Corkindale’s attention turned to a more important matter. “I say,” he said, addressing Osgood, “where might I find a healthy draft of something to wet my palate?”
“Where is Miss Susanne?” Thea asked, just realizing Mrs. Pomfrey was without the rest of her family.
Mrs. Pomfrey’s lips pursed in disapproval. “She and my husband are coming.” She forced a smile. “You will wait for her, won’t you, my lord?”
Before Lyon could answer, the door opened and Mr. Pomfrey entered, followed by his daughter and Sir James, who were both chatting in an animated way. In fact, Sir James was looking years younger, and Miss Susanne’s face glowed with the most becoming flush.
Mr. Pomfrey’s eyes met his wife’s with a resigned look. He’d obviously failed at an assigned task, which, Thea assumed, had been to nip a budding romance. Her assumption was affirmed when Mrs. Pomfrey took charge. “Susanne, you need to dress for dinner.”
Miss Susanne didn’t take her eyes off Sir James when she said, “Actually, I’m not ready to dress yet, Mother. It is such a lovely day, and Sir James and I thought we’d take a turn around Lady Palmer’s garden.”