Breathless awareness had gripped her. The fibers of her being tautened, quivering with the readiness of an instrument about to be plucked. A feeling she’d waited a lifetime for.
Mesmerized by the intensity of his slate grey eyes, she’d whispered, “Thank you… um,whoare you?”
His slow, self-deprecating smile devastated her senses. “My manners aren’t usually this shoddy. Forgive me. Gabriel Ridgley, Marquess of Tremont, at your service.”
And so her feverish infatuation had begun.
For his part, he’d never actively encouraged her attachment, nor had he discouraged it. They’d talked, danced, strolled in the garden, all of it properly chaperoned. All of it friendly and polite. At times, she’d thought that they were about to turn a corner—that he might declare his feelings—only to have him withdraw, his eyes opaque as steel. As cool and impassive.
Finally, she hadn’t been able to stand it any longer. For the first time in her life, she’d acted recklessly. She’d grabbed life by the horns—and been flung aside.
“He doesn’t owe me anything.” Then, because it had to be said, “Please don’t meddle, Em. It’ll only make matters awkward if he and I cross paths in the future.”
“Fine. You’re better off without him, if you ask me,” her sister declared. “Tremont always struck me as a bit of a cold fish.”
If only his kisshadbeen cold, then she might have forgotten him more easily. But in those few precious moments before he’d rejected her, his lips had set fire to her blood, awakening dormant yearnings. Desires that now infused her dreams, made her toss restlessly in her bed...
“And speaking of fish, he’s not the only one in the sea. Instead of moping, you ought to make the most of the remaining Season. Meet potential suitors. You’ve been so preoccupied with that blasted Tremont that you haven’t noticed anyone else.”
Actually, Thea had noticed the handful of gentlemen who’d shown her attention… who might have even courted her, had she encouraged them. They were all substantially older than she was, widowers with heirs securely in place. Men who could afford to take on a fragile wife to be a companion in their dotage or an ornament in their drawing room. Men who would peck her on the cheek, pat her head, and send her off to her separate bedchamber.
Men who didn’t understand her at all.
Yet the one man who did—who’d seemed to see to the vital, pulsing heart of her desires—didn’t want her. For weeks, the reasons for Tremont’s rejection kept her mind spinning like a top. Was it because her constitution seemed too weak? Was she too old? Not pretty enough? Perhaps it had been her kiss—too brazen or too inexperienced?
Or maybe he’d never reciprocated her feelings at all. Maybe he’d seen her only as a platonic companion. Maybe his heart still belonged to Lady Sylvia, his departed wife whom everyone said had been a paragon of virtue…
Stop it, Thea told herself firmly. The answer lay as out of reach as a mirage. Which meant she must cease obsessing over it or she would be driven to Bedlam.
“If I meet anyone of interest, you will be the first to know.” She gave her sister a pleading look. “Now can wepleasedrop the subject?”
Emma huffed out a breath. “I only pester because I care, you know.”
“I know.” Drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, Thea forced a smile. “We’d better catch up to the girls.” By the camel house, two bold dandies were bowing before Rosie. “They’re getting more attention than the menagerie.”
“That’s Quality for you,” Emma said, sighing. “They’re here to watch each other not the animals.”
A lady sporting a full plumage of peacock feathers in her hat strolled by.
Thea murmured, “How can you tell the difference?”
Her sister laughed, dispelling any lingering tension.
The next hour passed quickly given the distractions of the various displays. They met up with Strathaven and Violet, the latter chomping at the bit to see the kangaroos. The other girls wanted to go too; feeling the familiar fatigue creep over her like fog over the Thames, Thea scanned the bustling environs for a bench and proposed to wait there.
“I’ll stay with you,” Emma said.
“No, go and enjoy yourself. I’d like a few moments of quiet. Truly I would.”
Emma looked ready to argue, but Strathaven put an arm around her waist. “Don’t fuss, love. Let Dorothea enjoy a respite from the mayhem. We won’t be gone long.”
Thea gave her brother-in-law a grateful look.
With a wink, he led Emma and the others away.
Thea made her way to the seat. But a pair of ladies beat her to it, forcing her to look for another. She spied one in the distance; away from the main walk, the bench was set by a sparkling pond, partially hidden by a cluster of trees. Lured by the promise of solitude, she headed over.
A few minutes later, she sat in the enveloping shade. The leaf-scented coolness was a balm to her senses, and she smiled at the frolics of the water fowl honking and flapping their wings, splashing diamonds across the water’s surface. Just as she began to relax, a boy’s voice cut through the calm.
