“Don’t upset the child, Tothill,” Grandmama said briskly. “Thea is here now. That is all that matters.”
“I wish it was, Mother.” He turned to Thea. “I expected to find you dancing. Why were you not?”
“I’m sorry. I ran away. I was afraid no one would want to dance with me, Papa.” Thea averted her gaze from her grandmama’s disbelieving frown. She held her father’s glasses beneath her reticule in her lap. “Someone said I’d be a wallflower.” It was Cathy, but Thea refused to run to her father with tales like she did. Once in a rage, her sister had accused her of being their father’s favorite. She doubted it was true, but it stirred Thea’s sympathy. And it evened out because Mama favored Cathy. Thea always seemed to be doing something to annoy her mother. Her sister put a great deal of importance on what people thought, while it didn’t bother Thea nearly as much.
Thea smiled appealingly up at her father.
“You talk nonsense.” Papa’s expression softened. He sat beside her and took hold of her hand. “You are a lovely young woman, Thea, and your dowry handsome enough to attract suitors.”
Pleased with the compliment, Thea lost her grip on her reticule. It slid from her lap, leaving the glasses in plain sight.
“My spare pair of glasses!” He snatched them up. “I have been looking for these.” He studied her. “What are you doing with them?”
“I thought they would make me appear more interesting,” Thea said. But this time, her father wasn’t fooled.
He slipped the glasses in his pocket and folded his arms. “I didn’t come down in the last rain shower, Theodosia. I am well aware of your foolish plan to remain a spinster like your Great-Aunt Margery. It’s your wish to waste your life, penning poetry as she did.”
“Not poetry, Papa. I want to write about important matters.”
“I see I shall have to find a husband for you. One who will settle you down before this nonsense gets you into trouble.”
“Oh, no, Papa,” Thea said, her voice strangled. “Allow me to choose my own husband, please. You and mother loved each other, surely you would want the same for me.”
He unfolded his arms, his expression softening. “Very well. I am only here for a few days, but I shall keep my eye on you. So will your grandmama. Any more of this foolish rebelliousness, and I will choose your husband.”
Thea swallowed. “I promise to dance every dance.IfI am asked.”
He rose. “Of course you will be. You shall do well if you behave yourself. I expect to see you settled into your own household before the year is out, my dear. I want grandchildren.”
“But as the eldest, Cathy is to marry first and…”
He held up his hand. “Your sister has done what is expected of her. That is the way of the world, is it not? And I am not about to allow your silly ideas to spoil any chance for your happiness.”
He returned to his friends, leaving Thea miserably aware she had disappointed him.
“Never mind, my girl,” Grandmama said bracingly. “Your father loves you. Once you have an acceptable suitor asking for your hand, all will be forgiven.”
Thea nodded dumbly. She must dance with the next man who asked her when she would much rather be alone to dwell on what had happened in the garden. Lord Grainger was such an unusual man. She had to admit his quick action might have saved her from those violent men.
But her protestations didn’t fool Grainger either. While she disliked his blunt and overbearing manner, she admired his calm strength. She would have liked to discuss what they’d overheard. But he revealed no such intention. Might he withhold something important from her? Why did those men want to murder someone? And so brutally. She shuddered at the thought.
“I see you are a trifle feverish,” Grandmama said. “You shall go straight home to bed.”
“But I’m not ill,” Thea protested, but her grandmama gathered up her walking stick, shawl, lorgnette, and reticule.
“Don’t just sit there,” she said crossly. “Your mother will never forgive me if you have a relapse.”
Frustrated with no chance of speaking to Grainger, Thea rose to her feet.
Before they’d gone far, her father approached with a fair-haired gentleman.
“Are you leaving so soon?” he asked Grandmama.
“Thea is not well. I am taking her home.”
“Are you ill, sweetheart?”
“I am well, Papa,” Thea said, smiling at the gentleman who had raised amused eyebrows.
