Unlacing Lady Thea. Louise Allen
unsatisfying amatory encounters and the crushing sense that if he wasn’t worthy of being loved, then he wasn’t worthy to behave like a gentleman, to care about his estates, to bother with his friends.
And then he had woken up one morning and asked why he was punishing himself. He had not driven Serena into Paul’s arms; she had been there all the time. She had deceived him, lied to him, used him. He knew then he was not going to drink himself into an early grave for the sake of a woman who had never loved him.
‘I meant that I need a holiday. I’ve been working hard on the estate with the new model farm, the changes to the tenants’ cottages, the improvements we’ve been making to the cropping and livestock systems. I just want a break, something completely different.’ He had also been burning the candle at both ends all Season and he was feeling utterly jaded with women, gaming... Not that he could tell Thea that.
Rhys took a swig of ale and watched Thea out of the corner of his eye as she chewed on her bread, apparently intent on digesting his words as thoroughly as her food.
What would she say if he told her the truth? I want all my wits about me before I select a woman who will not betray me, who will fulfil her part of the bargain, will prove to be the bland, undemanding countess that I will be able to coexist with for the rest of my life. But the whole damn thing feels so cold, so...mechanical, that I’m clutching at excuses to put it off.
He didn’t need to ask Thea’s opinion; he knew what it would be. She would frown a little, making a crease between the brows that were a shade darker than her hair. Then she would twiddle a strand of flyaway brown hair while she thought about it and finally she would tell him that he must wait until he found a woman to love and who loved him. Her obsession with love matches was the only irrational thing he had ever discovered about Thea.
If he waited to stray into the path of Cupid’s arrows, he would die a bachelor. No, he would decide on a wife on the basis of her suitability as a countess and the mother of his heir. She would have to be intelligent enough to be a pleasant companion and a good parent, of course. And she would be attractive enough to make sharing a bed no penance—he intended to take his marriage vows seriously—but really, beyond that, he was prepared to be flexible and businesslike about the matter.
The women he would be deciding between—or, rather, their fathers—would make their decision based on his title, his bloodlines and his estate. It would be rational, calm and safe on both sides. No messy emotions. No pretence of love. He had no intention of laying his own heart out to be trampled on again and he was wary of doing anything that would make an impressionable young woman fancy herself in love with him.
‘Yes, I see.’ Thea nodded at last, a firm little jerk of her head. ‘It is very sensible to take a holiday if you need a change.’
‘Are you cold? You shivered just then.’ They were both well wrapped up, but the wind was cutting across the deck, sending tendrils of her hair dancing. It was rather pretty, that soft brown. Not obvious, just...nice. He’d never noticed before. Rhys leaned forward and tucked a strand back behind her ear, and she shivered again. He really should not touch her, not until he was feeling more himself, he thought, and frowned.
‘I must be tired. I think I’ll retire for the night.’
‘Hodge has made up the chaise, by the look of it.’ The valet was pulling down the blinds as he backed out of the vehicle.
‘I’ll just have a word with Polly.’ Thea stood up and brushed at the skirts of the serviceable walking dress she was wearing. ‘Goodnight, Rhys.’ She leaned forward and, before he could react, planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you for bringing me. I’ll try not to be a nuisance.’
He must be forgiven for that idiotic moment on the quayside, he decided as he watched her making her way across the gently heaving deck, her skirts caught up tight to stop the wind tossing them.
She had developed some very feminine curves since he had last seen her, he realised as she vanished into the companionway. The memory of them pressed against his body was...stimulating.
Ridiculous chit. What on earth had possessed her to think those boy’s clothes would have been any protection at all once it had become light? It was fortunate that he had been home and she had not been out on the streets in the morning.
With a muttered curse Rhys got to his feet and went to see what Hodge was doing to make the carriage habitable for the night. This was Thea, for goodness’ sake! What was the matter with him? He was going to have to find some obliging female company when they reached Paris if a few days’ celibacy had this effect on him. Thea, indeed!
* * *
Hodge had created a snug nest for her with pillows and rugs. Thea took off her shoes and stockings, folded her cloak and lay down. How clever of Polly to suggest she take off her stays, she thought as she wriggled into a comfortable position. There was absolutely no reason why she could not get a perfectly good night’s sleep with the boat moving in such a soothing rhythm.
No reason at all, except that her foolish brain decided to worry about Rhys and his marriage plans. Not that he was going about finding a bride differently from most eligible gentlemen, she supposed, punching a pillow into shape. But this was Rhys, and he was too passionate, too involved, too...alive, to settle for a bland marriage of mutual convenience, surely?
If he would only take an interest in the young women themselves and not in their parentage and dowries, then he might find a soulmate, someone who could heal the wounds Serena had inflicted.
She tried to think what sort of young lady would suit him. Not blonde, of course. But she’d have to be pretty. And... Warm, rocked by the waves, Thea drifted off to sleep.
* * *
‘Ow!’ Thea let out a startled cry, more of confusion than pain. It was dark, her whole left side hurt from colliding with something hard and she had no idea where on earth she was. The surface she was lying on rose and fell and she thumped down again, her limbs tangled in blankets.
The chaise. I’m in the chaise on the deck of the ship and we must have hit a rock or something. Get out.... She scrabbled at the door catch but it wouldn’t open. I’m going to drown.... ‘Rhys!’
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