Yet she understood from the boy’s resigned expression that words would do little to alter his opinion of himself. After all, she struggled with her own self-doubts. In her own situation, what had helped most was being around her family. They’d brought normalcy into her confinement, entertaining her with conversation and games when she was too weak to leave her bed. Their loving, rambunctious presence had buoyed her through her darkest moments. Perhaps Freddy’s spirits would be lifted by being with children his own age. And she knew just the companion for him.
On impulse, she said, “When you’re up to it, would you like to meet my nephew? Edward is around your age, and I think the two of you would rub along famously.”
“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “The doctor said I mustn’t leave the bed. And I haven’t much experience with friends—”
“Friends?” Tremont’s deep voice cut in.
Thea swung around in her chair. Once again, he’d approached as soundlessly as a shadow, and this morning she found the habit irritating. That and the fact that he was so dashed attractive. Why couldn’t he be missing a few teeth or losing his hair? But, oh no, he had to look perfect. Like a sculpture, his angelic features were schooled to an impeccable sternness. His hair, the same tawny shade as his son’s, lay neatly against his head. His eyes were as somber as the charcoal coat and buff trousers that fit like a glove over his lean muscularity.
“Good morning, Papa,” Freddy said tentatively. “I’m feeling so much better today.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. Now what is this about friends?”
The boy bit his lip, so Thea said, “That was my idea, my lord.”
At Tremont’s inquiring look, she repeated her proposal.
“That is not possible,” he said. “My son is not well enough for a social call.”
Freddy’s face fell like a soufflé.
“We could consult Dr. Abernathy,” she said swiftly. “I am sure he will approve of the distraction. In addition, I could make sure my nephew knows not to overtire Freddy. Edward is a quiet boy by nature and much prefers games like chess to Oranges and Lemons or Hide the Slipper.”
At length, Tremont said, “I will consider it—if the doctor approves.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Freddy said tremulously.
Tremont’s gaze remained on hers, the grey depths turbulent, disconcertingly warm. Thea told herself that she was glad for the boy’s sake alone. She didn’t care what his father thought.
She rose to leave—and remembered the book in her hands. Holding out the leather volume, she said, “I almost forgot. I brought this for you.”
“For me?” Freddy took it, his eyes as big as dinner plates.
“A belated birthday gift. My papa gave it to me when I was bedbound, and Captain Gulliver’s adventures made the time pass more quickly.” She smiled at the fervent way the boy opened the cover. “I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I have.”
She almost made it to the door when Tremont blocked her path. She ignored the jolt that his gentle touch on her arm elicited. Lifting her chin, she said, “My lord?”
“I wanted to inquire after your health.” His high cheekbones turned ruddy. “After, ahem, yesterday’s events.”
His solicitous tone made her grind her teeth.
“I’m no porcelain doll,” she said tartly. “I’m perfectly well and stronger than I look.”
“Did you know Miss Thea has an illness too? I would not have guessed,” Freddy piped up from the bed. “She was fearless yesterday and didn’t stand down.”
“Miss Kent’s vigor is indeed a thing of wonder,” Tremont said.
Cheeks flushing, Thea told herself to ignore the husky edge to his voice, the hungry gleam in his eyes. Frustration filled her. Why was he toying with her, flirting with her when he’d made clear not once, buttwice, that he didn’t want her?
There was, she supposed, a freedom that came from knowing that one has been rejected. She had enough pride not to ask him to reconsider. If Tremont couldn’t recognize the strength of her passion—couldn’t see her for who she was—then she would find someone else who would.
She refused to languish away like some piece of forgotten fruit. No, she would search out someone who would return her love. Who would kiss her, touch her, desire her as a flesh and blood woman. Who would make her feel as alive as she did when she was in Tremont’s arms…
Stop it. Don’t let him play with your emotions like a cat with a ball of string.
“I have errands to attend to, my lord,” she said coolly.
The steel curtain dropped over his gaze.
