Chapter Eleven
Thea woke the next morning feeling more relaxed and at peace with the world than she had been in years. She stretched, and immediately muscles she’d not used in a long time let her know they were still alive.
Alive, yes, that was what she felt.
She blushed, remembering how wanton she’d been with Neal. He’d tapped into long-suppressed desires, and she was glad he had.
Thea bound out of bed, perfectly comfortable with her nakedness. Sunlight poured through the window. She’d slept late, something she rarely did.
Her torn nightdress was still on the floor. She snatched it up and hugged it to her, reliving the memory of Neal ripping it off her body. The image sent her blood pounding through her veins. She couldn’t wait to see him again.
She quickly saw to her toilette, then crossed to the wardrobe to choose what she would wear.
It wasn’t a difficult decision. Her wardrobe wasn’t that extensive.
She chose the blue day dress she wore most often—however today was different.
She was dressing for Lyon. The blue brought out the color in her eyes.
Once, the butcher she’d patronized had told her that she looked fetching in it, and that was how she wanted Neal to see her—fetching.
Such as perhaps he would fetch her back up the stairs to the bedroom.
She laughed at her own silliness. But she also wasn’t as strict when styling her hair. She loosened her usually tight knot and allowed wisps to curl around her ears.
Her ears. They still tingled with the sensation of his kissing them.
But what made her happiest was that she had her friend Neal back in her life. He was her friend and her lover. What could be better?
And he wanted to marry her. After the enthusiasm with which they’d made love, she had no doubt of his desire. The man was a beast, and she practically purred her contentment.
When they had been discovered in each other’s arms by the Montvales and their like, she had refused him because she’d hated the idea of his hand being forced. However, his kisses had convinced her that he, a man who could have any woman in London he desired, was indeed choosing her.
The miracle of it threatened to overwhelm her, especially since her sons would be excited over the news she had married Neal.
She had no doubt how they would feel about having Neal as their stepfather.
There would be no more worries about food or schooling, and they would learn to ride real horses instead of playing with wooden ones.
Neal would not only restore their heritage and birthrights to them but he would also serve as a prime example of what a true gentleman was.
She met Mirabel out in the hallway. They didn’t have to do anything but fall into each other’s arms with sisterly hugs.
“I’m so pleased for you,” Mirabel said. “I saw him last night after he left your room. He was a happy man.”
Thea laughed, almost giddy with the joy she was feeling. “I am a lucky woman.”
“I should say so. Every woman in London will be looking daggers of envy at you.” Mirabel stepped back, smiling. “Osgood informed me his lordship sent a messenger to the bishop at first light. My dear, you could be married before this day is done.”
And she would be Neal’s. “I am humbled by my good fortune. I just wish my sons could be here—”
“Don’t wait for them, Thea. Marry Lyon. Osgood has also told me everyone else packed up and left.”
“Without waiting to say anything to you?”
“Of course,” Mirabel said. “They eat my food, guzzle a good portion of Palmer’s wine cellar, and then, poof, they are gone as if I didn’t exist. That’s the way their type is. And to think I was rather pleased they were favoring me with their presence.”
Thea shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Mirabel. I would not have anything I did reflect back on you. I’ve destroyed your standing in society.”
“Oh, no, there you are wrong,” Mirabel declared, slipping her arm in Thea’s.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and let us be honest: many toady to Mrs. Pomfrey and Lady Montvale, but few admire them.
We are all more intimidated by them than anything else.
But this whole affair has placed me at the exact opposite of them.
I will support my friend,” she said, giving Thea’s shoulder a squeeze, “regardless of what they say. And watch, I shall be acclaimed for it. The star of my popularity shall rise higher than it would ever have with their endorsement. People will befriend me just to hear my side of the story. I’m certain they’ve made a good number of enemies with their high-handed, selfish ways, and I shall richly benefit. ”
“I’m still sorry for all of the difficulty I’ve caused you,” Thea said.
“I haven’t had such a good time in years, my Lady Lyon.”
Thea hadn’t even thought that she would gain a title.
Matters had advanced so rapidly that the consequences of her marriage, such as a title and a station of her own in society, hadn’t even entered her mind yet.
She’d grown up a duke’s daughter but had learned how little that meant in the world when one was cut off from one’s family.
However, Lady Lyon would be her title alone, and a fine one it was.
All this good fortune was overwhelming.
What she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Mirabel sympathized. “Let’s go downstairs and find you a strong cup of tea.”
“That sounds like exactly what I need.”
In the dining room they came upon Sir James finishing his breakfast. He was dressed for travel.
“Sir James, I’m glad you are still here,” Mirabel said in greeting.
“I regret to say I shall be leaving.” He cast a sheepish glance in Thea’s direction. “I pray you don’t think ill of me, Lady Palmer.”
“Miss Pomfrey is a fortunate woman,” Mirabel said.
“Yes, I hope she believes that, although her parents will need a touch more convincing to appreciate my suit for their daughter’s hand.
I came here expecting to help Lyon find a wife and instead found love for myself.
Funny how it all works, eh? An old bachelor like me finally being brought to heel?
” He cast another sheepish glance toward Thea before saying to Mirabel, “I regret I can’t tarry here.
Your hospitality and your late husband’s wine cellar have been delightful.
However, if I am to please the people whose daughter I hope to marry, I must leave.
You know Mrs. Pomfrey is a bit of a Tartar. ”
“I understand, Sir James,” Mirabel said.
He started toward the door but stopped in front of Thea. “Please take care of my friend Lyon. His is a troubled soul.”
“I shall endeavor to do so,” she responded, placing her hand in his.
“It won’t be smooth going,” he predicted and then, with a bow, left the room.
Thea frowned, not pleased to have her joy in the day spoiled by Sir James’s dire prediction.
Mirabel took her by the elbow and steered her toward the buffet. “He must be referring to the carryings-on of the Mmes. Pomfreys and Lady Montvales of the world. Pay him no mind. Lyon can handle the gossips, and so can you. Come, let us eat.”
But Thea held back. “Where is Lyon?” she asked.
“He could still be abed,” Mirabel answered, moving toward the sideboard. “Do you care for bacon?”
Thea didn’t answer but walked out into the hall. Osgood was in the front hall, having seen Sir James on his way. She approached him. “Have you seen Lord Lyon?”
“Yes, ma’am. He went riding early this morning.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, turning back to the dining room. It was a beautiful day, and it would not have been out of character for Neal to want to take advantage of the weather and ride.
Still, she had hoped he would be as anxious to see her as she was him.
Thea tried to put any disquieting thoughts from her mind. Mirabel waited by the dining room door, her half-filled plate in her hand. Thea forced a smile and came to join her, but she didn’t have much of an appetite for food. Her stomach was unsettled by doubt.
After breakfast, Thea attempted to focus on a book and some correspondence. Time passed slowly.
In the afternoon, a rider came. It was the servant Neal had sent to arrange for the special license. He had been successful in his mission and had the license signed by the bishop . . . but there was no sign of Neal.
Mirabel kept up a running dialogue, mostly with herself, since Thea grew more introspective as the afternoon wore on, but even she was starting to worry.
“He wouldn’t leave you,” Mirabel burst out at one point after a half hour of silence between them. “Lyon is more of a man than that. He’s not a jilt.”
Thea looked up from the book she’d been staring at without comprehending any of the words. “He has before.”
“When?” Mirabel demanded.
“Years ago. When we first met. We were friends for weeks and growing closer. We met at this clearing by a stream that bordered our two properties. Then one day, he stopped coming. No note, no anything. Seeing him in Sir James’s office was the first time our paths crossed in years.”
“Were you in love back in those days?”
Mirabel’s question gave Thea pause. Had she been in love with him? Certainly she’d been deeply hurt when he’d left without a word.
“No,” Thea said. “We were children, really. Very young, very protected. Our friendship was innocent. We felt free to speak our minds to each other.”
“Sometimes that is how the best relationships start,” Mirabel said.
She set aside her needlework and leaned forward, reaching out to place a hand on Thea’s arm.
“When I first heard you were to find a wife for Lyon, I thought you should be that wife out of a strictly practical sense. Thea, you are well bred, intelligent, lovely—what man wouldn’t want you? ”
“Spoken like a true friend,” Thea murmured.