Ash cursed under his breath as he watched her make her way back to her grandmother. A net was closing around Miss Tothill. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He wasn’t sure what Ross had planned for her if he hadn’t intervened, but he was now near the top of his list of suspects. It still didn’t let Tothill off the hook. Ash couldn’t entirely discount him because of his friendship with Farnborough, but surely, if he knew what the devil was up to, a loving father wouldn’t wish such a man to marry his beloved daughter.
Unless Farnborough held something over him. Had he been the third man in that room? Should he advise Miss Tothill to confess all to her father? Ash no longer thought so. She was bright enough to put two and two together, and if Tothill was in any way culpable, he could sense a change in her and learn more from her than Ash wanted him to. While he liked the man and couldn’t bring himself to think ill of him, he couldn’t ignore the two strikes against him: his propensity for a certain mixture of snuff and his relationship with Farnborough.
Ash cursed softly under his breath and made his way to pay his respects to his host and hostess. His man would watch Farnborough again tonight, and Ash would liaise with him at first light.
Chapter Six
Thea lay inbed, unable to sleep, pleating the linen sheet with her fingers. Didn’t her father plan to leave London soon? He showed little inclination of it, having accepted several invitations taking place during the following sennight, and he’d offered to escort her and Grandmama to the rout. While she was tremendously fond of her father, she feared her behavior might make him suspicious. If he grew overly concerned about her, he would act to see her safely settled with a husband. He was already keen to do so. She couldn’t risk telling him the whole story. That would only make matters worse, and he might send her home.
She thumped her pillow, which seemed filled with rocks. And there was tomorrow to contend with. She’d barely given thought to the two gentlemen, Mr. Clement and Mr. Tansley, who stated their intention to call. Neither of them stirred the faintest interest. Mr. Clement spoke as if from the pulpit, which reminded her of their vicar. Not the one who drank the altar wine—she’d quite liked him—but the prosy one they now had. And Mr. Tansley’s chest swelled like a rooster when he talked about himself, which was most of the time.
She sighed deeply. The afternoon would be unendurable. She would much rather talk to Grainger, but there was scant chance of that.
By half-past two the following afternoon, Grandmama’s friend, Mrs. Darby, and her daughter, Mary, had departed to make further calls. And with a fresh pot of tea, Thea and her grandmama entertained the two gentlemen who arrived together and sat with napkins and cake plates on their knees. They glanced at each other when the maid announced Farnborough.
Aware she’d stopped breathing, Thea drew in a sharp breath. Farnborough had not mentioned calling. Nor had he left his card. How very like him! He strolled into her grandmama’s drawing room with a look of arrogant acceptance of his place in the world. Grandmama greeted him warmly, and Thea forced a smile to welcome him. He sat near her on the sofa. She fidgeted with her napkin, aware of his thoughtful gaze upon her, while Clement tugged at his cravat, having halted in the middle of some rambling tale about his time at Cambridge.
A flicker of imperious superiority from Farnborough’s cold eyes caused both men to stand and excuse themselves, expressing their hope to see Thea at the rout.
The door closed behind them. Grandmama, who presided over the tea tray, rang for more hot water.
“Would you care for some cake or a lemon tartlet?” Thea offered him the tiered cake plate. “The tartlets are quite good.”
“No tea, thank you. I shan’t stay but a moment. I must apologize for calling impromptu, but I found myself eager to see you again, Miss Tothill.”
While Thea attempted to arrange her features into a smile, Grandmama thankfully drew him into conversation. They discussed how unseasonably wet the year had been, and he spoke of his bracing ride in the park at dawn.
“You like to rise early, my lord?” Thea asked him. Her grandmother had not left her bedchamber until after luncheon, which left Thea to roam the house, thoroughly bored. “The ball ended very late.”
“I find it better not to sleep on these occasions,” he said as his eyes roamed her face and settled on her mouth. “As a single man, I can please myself. And a little rest is worse than none.”
His attempt to charm was lost on her. She studied the big man’s brutish chin and shivered inwardly when she recalled his savage plan to commit murder without a shred of remorse.
“You keep yourself in the pink of condition, Lord Farnborough?” Grandmama asked politely.
“Fit as a fiddle, madam.” He thumped his chest. “I box and fence in London and ride a great deal in the country.”
As he spoke, he gave Thea another quick appraising glance up and down. She wasn’t sure why she found it so unsettling, but her blood ran cold as it had on the previous evening. He believed her to be an amiable girl with few thoughts in her head. Her father might disagree with that assessment. Impossible now to reveal her true self to Farnborough. Especially with Grandmama looking on. She would have to think of a way to deter him if the worse came to…
“Thea?” Grandmama frowned at her. “Lord Farnborough asked you a question.”
Thea glanced up at him. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
“I merely wished to know if you look forward to the rout.” He sounded piqued. “The Millards claim to have one of the best gardens in Richmond. If the evening is fine, I shall enjoy viewing it with you.”
He wished to be alone with her. Relieved to have put down her cup before her trembling hands caused it to rattle in its saucer, Thea clasped them in her lap. “The garden does sound wonderful.”
With a pleased nod, he rose and took his leave.
Her grandmother took up her embroidery. “He shows a great interest in you, Thea. I beg you to try to appreciate the advantages of marrying a man of his circumstances. He has a fine estate in Yorkshire. Your father would be very pleased to see you so well settled.”
“I do want to make Papa happy,” Thea admitted. But not at the expense of her own safety and peace of mind. Life with Farnborough would be impossible. An unruly wife, as she would surely be, would suffer at his hands. She knew what he was capable of. It made her wonder about Lady Farnborough. What might she have suffered?
“The two other gentlemen made little impression on you, I’m glad to say.” Grandmama continued to list the advantages of marrying a man such as Farnborough, while Thea slumped despondently on the sofa. “You would have access to his fine stable of thoroughbreds. You know how important riding is to you. And he is a distant cousin of the king! Just think about it, Thea! As his wife, you would dress in the latest Paris fashions and move in the first circles. You would dine at Carlton House!” She fell silent, perhaps to allow her words to resonate.
Thea wondered if Grandmama did admire Farnborough or if she merely believed what Papa told her. Papa was her son. Naturally, she thought highly of his opinion. It would be of no use telling her the truth. She would go straight to him. Would her grandmother stand by her if it came to the worst, and she desperately needed support?
She was puzzling over why her father liked Farnborough when the maid entered and removed the tea tray. If Papa insisted she marry Farnborough, she foresaw a life shut away in the country, bearing his children, with him ruling over her. The thought of his hands on her repulsed her! She would run away if it came to that. “What was Lady Farnborough like?” she asked Grandmama. “Did she seem a contented person?”
