Chapter 5

CHAPTER

a

5

H ow was the pamphlet I prepared?" Theo asked Georgina. "Did the other ladies like it? Will they use it?"

Georgina wrinkled her nose and said, "It was phrased incorrectly. You're aware of what I requested, yet you didn't heed my instructions. I've repeatedly warned you not to mention any men. You specifically named Lord Sutton as a cad, even though we don't dare declare open battle with him."

"We should declare battle with him. Why must you always protect the scoundrels? Why must it be the tarts who are blamed? It's so unfair."

"Lord Sutton is too powerful. If we annoy him, he could have us shut down. We have to keep our focus on the main situation and that's the doxies who flaunt themselves."

It was commonly bandied that women were the sinners, that they lured gullible men from the straight and narrow, and that view incensed Theo. By that standard, it meant her own mother had been wicked, and the rogue who'd convinced her to run away was a complete innocent.

That scenario was infuriating and Theo had to cease her efforts to reframe the incident. Her mother's scandal had defined her life, and there was no minute of the day when it wasn't front and center in Theo's mind. The gossip had crushed her father and had brought Georgina and Arthur into their home. Since then, nothing had been the same.

Theo remembered her mother as being pretty, quiet, and forlorn, and her marriage must have been very unhappy. Why else would she have left them? Theo and Charlotte had been good little girls, the pertinent word being girls. It couldn't have been their fault.

Theo's father had been stern and difficult, so he'd probably been a terrible husband. No doubt her mother had felt trapped, but a wife wasn't allowed to yield to those feelings or to abandon her obligations.

Theo constantly tried to rewrite her mother's history, to settle on a plausible explanation. She refused to accept that her mother had been the perpetrator. She was certain the roué had been guilty too.

By her participating in the Matron's Brigade, she'd hoped—in a small way—to shed light on the biased castigation that was leveled at fallen women. She'd hoped her paltry attempt would vindicate her mother, or perhaps reduce her culpability, but clearly, she was wasting her time and energy.

She and Georgina were standing on the street outside the theater where the dissolute actress, Tilly Dreadful, had been starring in a nightly comedy. The Brigade had been picketing again and the theater manager had just emerged to announce that Miss Dreadful had been fired. At the news, the vicious crowd had cheered.

He'd pleaded with them to end their harassment and they'd agreed that they would. The gathering was over, with members congratulating themselves for being so effective. They were about to march to Vicar Johnson's church to gloat over their victory.

Theo didn't see any great triumph in berating an actress who had no allies and who couldn't fight back. She also couldn't forget that Lord Thornhill was acquainted with Miss Dreadful and that he thought she was very nice. Theo wondered what would become of Miss Dreadful. She'd lost her job, so how would she support herself? Would she be able to find other work? If she wound up suffering problems, wasn't Theo partially responsible?

It occurred to her that she was a tad ashamed. When Georgina had initially suggested she join the group, she'd assumed she could make a difference, but obviously, it was pointless. Oddly, she yearned to track down Miss Dreadful and apologize for her part in the debacle.

Georgina motioned to the horde of protestors who were proceeding to the church. "Aren't you coming? This was a huge victory and you don't want to miss the celebration."

"It's been a hot afternoon and I'm tired. I'll hail a cab and head home."

"You can't leave by yourself. Stay with me and we'll depart together once we're finished."

Luckily, several women began chattering to distract Georgina, and as Theo dawdled next to them, she glimpsed a man in a bowler hat and spectacles hurrying toward her. He was the lawyer who kept trying to speak with her, but she was in no mood to be further incensed about any topic. What benefit could there be in talking to a lawyer?

Georgina was ignoring her, so she slipped away and rushed off in the other direction. As she stomped along, she decided it would be her last rally. Georgina would be irked and would claim Theo wasn't being a good citizen, but the Brigade's goals weren't Theo's goals, and she never should have permitted herself to be dragged in.

She was barely watching where she was going, and after a bit of walking, she noticed that a fancy coach was lumbering beside her. She glanced over to discover that it was Lord Thornhill's vehicle. He was peering at her out the window and dogging her every step.

"Hello, Theo," he said. "We have to quit meeting like this."

"Are you following me?"

"Not originally, but after I espied you, I couldn't pass on by. Haven't we discussed that it's not wise for you to traipse about without a companion?"

"Yes, we have, and haven't we also discussed that I'm an adult and I don't need a nanny?"

"Will you get in and let me give you a ride?"

"I don't believe I ought."

He flashed his devil's grin, the one that tickled her innards. "Are you afraid of being alone with me?"

"No. Don't be ridiculous."

"If you don't climb in, I'll have to slog after you at a snail's pace, and it will annoy my horses and exasperate my servants. You won't be stubborn, will you?"

The matter was resolved by an outrider opening the door, then he waited for her to comply with Thornhill's command. Thornhill was staring her down, looking staunch and unbending, as if he'd spent his life barking orders and having them immediately obeyed. He'd been a soldier, so that was exactly how he'd carried on.

Why not accept his offer? What could it hurt? She kept insisting she was an adult, so she was perfectly capable of sitting in a carriage with a gentleman. He was a nobleman and Arthur's friend. How could it be improper or dangerous?

She went over and clambered in, and as she settled herself on the opposite seat, he said, "Thank you. If you'd been obstinate, I'd have been so irritated, and I hate to argue."

"It was easier to agree than to bicker."

"Why are you roaming about on your own again? Dare I inquire?"

"I was protesting with the Matron's Brigade. The assembly just ended."

"Have you saved England from the vixens of the demimonde?"

" They presume they've made progress, but as for myself, I've had enough of their bullying tactics. I don't like how they pick on women. I wrote a pamphlet for them that named an aristocrat as a depraved nuisance, but they won't distribute it. They won't anger any prominent men."

"To me" he said, "it's absurd that women are the group's focus."

"We were at the theater where the actress, Tilly Dreadful, worked. The manager came out and told us she'd been fired."

His jaw tightened. "That's too bad. She's marvelously talented and she was punished for no reason."

"I feel awful and I'm sorry."

Her cheeks heated, as if she'd arranged the whole fiasco, and he said, "Why would you be sorry?"

"With her being driven from her job, it was cruel to have been so relentless."

"I'm glad you've reconsidered." She must have appeared woeful because he added, "You're not responsible for the actions of those harpies. You were swept up by their feigned righteousness, but you never held a position of leadership, did you?"

"No, and just so you know, I joined to emphasize the behavior of debauched libertines. I was never keen to harass Miss Dreadful. It's simply an issue with me—cads and seduction—due to some old family troubles."

"What troubles?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

She wasn't about to confide that her mother had been a notorious hussy, so she said, "I have a female relative who was tempted by a scoundrel. She was blamed for the liaison, but no one ever pointed a finger at the villain who enticed her. Her treatment never seemed fair to me."

"Is the world supposed to be fair? Is there a rule about it?"

"Well, it's inordinately fair—to men! Women are viewed as the descendants of Eve, so they're always deemed to be at fault." She shrugged. "I thought I could change some opinions."

"I'm happy you've come to your senses. Will you participate in the Brigade in the future? Or are you finished with them?"

"I'm finished. I have better things to do than waste time on futile endeavors."

He raised a brow. "What are those better things? You fascinate me and I must learn every detail you're willing to share."

She scoffed. "I don't fascinate you. You're being silly."

He gazed at her slyly, and suddenly, the large vehicle was much too small and he was too close for comfort. He was a very masculine fellow, the type who took up too much space, and she vividly recalled their encounter on the bench in his garden. A peculiar aura had flared between them, where she'd been certain he was about to kiss her.

She might have been amenable until she'd remembered that she was betrothed to Arthur. She had no business flirting with Lord Thornhill, and she definitely shouldn't be entertaining wicked ideas about him.

As if he could read her mind, he asked, "Are you engaged to your stepbrother? I heard that somewhere."

"Yes, he and I are engaged."

"Have you set a date for the wedding?"

"No. We're not in any hurry."

"You're not? Aren't you eager to be a bride? Isn't it every woman's greatest dream?"

"We proceeded merely to please his mother. She was anxious about it, but he and I are siblings, so it's almost incestuous to think of ourselves as husband and wife." The words tumbled from her mouth and she gaped with horror. "I can't believe I said that. Ignore my remark and I beg you to never repeat it. I would hate to distress Arthur."

"Do you really imagine you could distress him?"

She actually couldn't imagine distressing him on any topic, but she wouldn't admit it, so she said, "It was a hideous comment."

"So you're excited about your pending nuptials. Is Arthur excited too?"

He was assessing her in an odd manner, as if he had an ulterior motive for posing his question, and his intense scrutiny was annoying. He was too nosy and she wasn't about to oblige him with personal information.

She changed the subject. "Why are you out and about in your carriage this afternoon? Are you traveling to an appointment or are you loafing? Are you reveling in sloth like every other aristocrat?"

"Yes, I revel in sloth," he baldly stated. "When I grow weary of being idle, I drink, gamble, and chase doxies."

She snorted with amusement. "Is that true or not? You seem rather normal to me, yet you constantly brag about your many vices."

"I was on my way to my gambling club, but the roads were blocked by your rally. I couldn't reach my destination, so I had to turn back."

"Maybe you should ride a horse and abandon your grand coach. Or you could enjoy a vigorous stroll."

"My leg hurts, so I don't walk or ride much anymore, but there's a benefit to my incapacitation. With me needing to be hauled around like an invalid, it gives my servants something to do."

"Is your leg aching now?"

"Yes, and it's an excellent weather vane. I predict it will rain by morning."

She'd read stories about him in the newspapers, but there had been scant facts provided as to what had occurred in India. He'd rescued some dignitaries, but she didn't know much more than the basic details.

"How were you injured?" she asked. "May I inquire? Or is it rude of me to pry?"

"I don't mind telling you. My men and I were escorting a group of government ministers through an area where people were often robbed by thieves. We were attacked by bandits and we had to fight for our lives."

He was so nonchalant about it! "You saved a royal cousin."

"It's the tale that was spread later on."

"I've mistakenly pictured you as a scapegrace, but apparently, you're a bold devil, so I'm impressed. The outcome of your ordeal is that your situation has been dramatically altered. What's it like being an earl? What's your opinion about it?"

"I like being in England where no one is shooting at me or slashing at me with sabers. It's peaceful here."

"But how about your being an aristocrat? You're such a bossy oaf, so I suppose you're completely suited to it."

He smirked at that. "It's been interesting. I'm usually bored though. And weary. My scar pains me and makes me tired."

"As you continue to heal, your stamina will improve."

"It's what my doctors claim."

"Why are you so bored? I assumed you'd be overwhelmed with tasks as you acclimate to your new circumstances."

"I was always so busy in the army," he said, "but I'm not busy now. In India, I was consumed by important work that was vital to the nation. Now, I'm expected to malinger and distract myself with nonsense, but I've never been a shirker. I can't find my footing, so I wind up drinking and gambling, which means I'm disgusted with how I carry on."

"My goodness. That's quite a confession."

He waved away his words. "Don't pay any attention to me. I'm grouchy when my leg aches and I complain when I shouldn't. My life is fine and I've been lucky."

She studied him, and she could see a tightness around his mouth that indicated he was in more discomfort than he'd let on. She wanted to hug him and insist he would be all right.

"You don't have to loaf and malinger," she said. "Just because your peers fritter away their hours and fortunes, you don't have to imitate their horrid habits. You could try your hand at various worthwhile projects until you stumble on one you like. Why don't you travel to Thornhill and start there? You could begin the necessary repairs. Wouldn't you be happier?"

"I'm not sure I've ever been particularly happy." He stared at her forever, his blue eyes poignant and mesmerizing, then he said, "You have a curious effect on me. In your presence, I blab many comments I shouldn't share."

"You have the same effect on me."

"I don't discuss my injury or how it was inflicted and I shouldn't whine about my elevation. It's churlish of me to grumble about it, so I apologize."

"I'm glad you were candid with me. I can't imagine what it must have been like to stagger through the past year."

"The biggest change has been my being back in England," he said.

"How long were you stationed in India?"

"Most of a decade."

She was on the verge of peppering him with personal questions, and she was anxious to unburden herself as well. She was dying to explain so many things: her mother running away and how it had impacted her childhood; her bitter father and frivolous stepmother; Charlotte being angry and cutting ties.

She yearned to clarify her engagement to Arthur, how she wasn't keen to marry him, but how she was alarmed over the future. She was desperate to stabilize her situation, so she didn't worry about what might happen.

She understood that her apprehension was a lingering consequence of her mother vanishing. It meant Theo never felt secure and was always terrified she'd be left behind. But despite her perception of having a heightened connection with him, she wouldn't voice any of her anguish.

In light of the difficulties most women faced, her problems were petty and insignificant. She had no reason to pity herself and she didn't need his sympathy.

Her desire to expound was quelled by the coach halting in front of her home. They sat quietly, but it seemed as if there was much more to say, and she had to swallow down a suggestion that they keep on going.

"I've delivered you safe and sound," he said. "Have I astounded you?"

"Yes. I view you as such a wastrel that I was positive I was risking life and limb to climb into your carriage."

"If I'm to ever see you, I have to cross paths with you in the oddest places. Since you attended my party, you've been hiding."

"You've figured out my ploy, so I won't deny it."

"If I'm in the mood to spend time with you, I have to drive around London and hope you're strolling down the street by yourself."

"There's no point to our fraternizing, so I'm not about to spend time with you."

He scrutinized her meticulously, his hot gaze starting at the top of her head, then meandering down. His scrupulous assessment made her pulse race and her spirits soar.

"Perhaps there is a point," he said. "I'm certain we were supposed to meet and there's an important purpose behind it."

"I don't think so. I really don't."

"If I begged you to sever your betrothal to Arthur, would you?"

She gasped. "What a strange remark! You and I are not sufficiently acquainted for us to have a conversation on the topic. Please don't raise it again."

An outrider opened the door. She leaned out so he could guide her down. To her surprise, Lord Thornhill debarked too, and he advised his servants that he'd walk over to his own door, that they could take the coach to the mews. His men jumped aboard the vehicle and left, so she was alone with him.

There were emotional comments swirling, but she couldn't reach out and grab any of them. Besides, what would be appropriate? He'd just urged her to cry off from her betrothal, and his request had stirred such an excitement that she nearly announced she would do exactly that.

Before she could escape his stunning presence, an older gentleman approached to interrupt. His features were so similar to Lord Thornhill's that they had to be father and son.

"Jackson," he said, "you went right by me and didn't stop to give me a lift."

"I'm sorry. We were talking and I didn't see you."

The older man shifted his focus to Theo and he flashed an admiring smile. "I can definitely grasp why you were too distracted to notice me. May I be introduced to your lovely companion?"

Lord Thornhill rolled his eyes, then said, "Theo, this is my very annoying, very obnoxious father, Cedric Bennett. Cedric, this is our neighbor, Miss Theodora Cronenworth."

Mr. Bennett swept into a flamboyant bow that made her laugh, then he clasped her hand and kissed it, as if he were greeting a princess.

"I am thrilled to meet you," he said.

"It's wonderful to meet you too," she replied, and when he wasn't inclined to drop her hand, she eased it away. He was studying her carefully, cataloguing every detail, and she suspected he'd been a bit of a roué when he was younger.

Lord Thornhill sidled in, as if blocking her from his father's sharp evaluation, then he said, "Cedric, you're being a nuisance. Go inside. I'll be there in a minute."

His father scoffed. "I haven't had an opportunity to chat with Miss Cronenworth."

"You're not chatting with her!"

The men shared a tense visual exchange, then Mr. Bennett said to Theo, "My son is so bossy. Have you found that to be true?"

"I've found it to be very true," she agreed.

"His army career rendered him dictatorial."

"It's what I'd decided," she said.

"When you were at Jackson's supper party, I wasn't there. If I can convince him to host another one, will you come?"

"Cedric!" Lord Thornhill snapped. "That's enough."

Mr. Bennett paused so his son would realize he was leaving because he chose to and not because he'd been ordered to. Then he said to Theo, "Goodbye, my dear. It's been an absolute delight."

He winked, then sauntered off. She and Lord Thornhill dawdled until he'd slipped into their house and shut the door.

An awkward interval festered, and she was eager to lighten the moment, so she said, "You actually have a living, breathing parent, so I guess you weren't hatched out of an egg."

"Did he embarrass you?"

"No! He's charming."

"He's charming like a snake in the grass. He's completely incapable of looking after himself, so he's always resided with me. May I declare that he's the bane of my existence?"

"I like to know that someone can rattle your calm aplomb."

He grinned. "You think I have calm aplomb?"

"Yes, and don't let your ego swell because of it."

They stared at each other, and she was suffering from that peculiar impression yet again that he wanted to kiss her. She wanted the same, which only proved he was dangerous to her equilibrium. The remedy was to avoid him at all costs. She couldn't loaf with him and become ever more smitten.

Was she smitten? She certainly seemed to be.

"You're resigning from the Matron's Brigade," he said, "so how will I bump into you in the future? You have to give me some idea of when you run errands, so I can drive by and offer you a ride. It is the sole chance we'll ever have to socialize."

"We're not socializing. It's ridiculous to imagine we could be friends."

"Too late, Theo Cronenworth. We're already more than friends, and I'm an earl, so my every wish has to be granted. You can't keep dodging me. I won't permit it."

"I'll manage it for the next two weeks. We're traveling to the country for our annual holiday excursion."

He cocked his head. "Where will you be staying?"

"It's midsummer and there's a huge fair in Ralston village. My childhood home is near there and we attend every year. It's a tradition."

"I will waste away while you're gone. Will you be sorry?"

"Not a whit, Lord Thornhill. A bizarre fantasy has sprouted in your brain where you assume I'm amenable to a flirtation. But I'm not amenable, so you have to reassess what's possible with me."

"I always get my way and it's Jackson to you. Not Lord Thornhill, remember?"

"Fine, Jackson. I won't see you again when I return, so don't watch for me."

To her great astonishment, he reached out and furtively squeezed her fingers, as if they were adolescent sweethearts who were courting. The gesture was shocking, inappropriate, and absurdly exhilarating.

What was she doing? What was she thinking? Well, she was thinking she'd enticed him when she shouldn't have, and she was agog over what was happening. Was she deranged? Had he driven her mad with his strange fixation? Very likely yes!

She yanked away and raced inside.

v

Lola Carter was in her bedchamber in Jackson's new house. He'd supplied her with a beautiful room, and he'd filled it with expensive furniture, so she should have been happy, but she wasn't happy. She'd expected to share the master suite with him—as if they were husband and wife.

It would have solidified her position and notified everyone—especially his surly servants and father—that she was about to be his countess and they should defer to her. Instead, she was being treated like a guest who didn't demand any extra respect.

Cedric recognized how she'd been slighted, and he constantly tormented her about her relationship with Jackson, that she'd achieved her pinnacle with him and would never rise any higher, but Cedric was a buffoon who didn't know anything.

She'd been Jackson's mistress for five years, and after he'd been wounded and had sailed for England, with his health in the balance, she'd sailed with him. He could have perished during the journey, so she'd had to be with him in case the worst occurred. Of course, she'd departed with him too because her father had kicked her out and was about to send her home in disgrace. He'd been threatening to lock her in a convent, so she'd escaped with Jackson while she'd had the chance.

They'd been in London for six months, and with his condition on the mend and his rewards bestowed, she was waiting for a marriage proposal. She didn't understand why they hadn't settled at Thornhill, but he wouldn't even show her the place. They were lolling in the city in a very elegant town house, but it wasn't a country manor, so it didn't provide her with any feelings of pomp or prestige.

She wasn't reticent about reminding him of what he owed her. With her lush auburn hair and big green eyes, her statuesque height and voluptuous figure, there was no other woman who could match her in looks. And with her debauched personality, there was no harlot who could more deftly perform the deeds he enjoyed.

She was the perfect partner for him and he'd frequently admitted that she was. He was an earl now, and Cedric kept encouraging him to hunt for a trembling young maiden, but he could never be content with a meek, tedious ninny. Lola was the bride he required, and she intended to be that bride, the problem being that she couldn't get him to move toward their wedding.

Her father had been an official in the East India Company, and after he'd allowed her and her mother to join him there, Lola had arrived to a world full of handsome soldiers. She'd quickly developed a reputation as a tart.

Once her antics with Jackson had been exposed, her family had cut ties, and with her dastardly father contemplating that convent, she'd burned her bridges. She would never describe Jackson's injury as a lucky event, but it had saved her from catastrophe. She'd left India with him and she was permanently glued to his side.

Cedric liked to scare her by claiming that Jackson was weary of her, but Jackson was loyal and committed, and he would never toss her over. Just the previous night, if Cedric could have peeked into her bedchamber and witnessed the carnal acts in which she and Jackson had engaged, he wouldn't be quite so cocky in his assessment of the situation.

Jackson had been gone all afternoon and she was bored. As of yet, she didn't have any friends in London. Gossip had followed her from India, so prior acquaintances and old school chums avoided her and wouldn't receive her.

She belonged in the demimonde, and she'd have been delighted to fraternize with some of the doxies who were trapped there, but she was about to be Mrs. Jackson Bennett and Lady Thornhill. She didn't dare wallow with trollops. She had a new reputation to develop and maintain.

She wandered over to the window and peered down at the street, and there was a couple in the courtyard. The woman was very fetching, with gorgeous brunette hair and striking blue eyes, but she was dressed in the white gown and red sash of the shrews who marched with the Matron's Brigade.

Did she live nearby? Did she enjoy harassing dissolute females? Probably, so her proximity to Lola and Jackson could become a thorny issue.

Lola continued to stare, and suddenly, she realized that Jackson was the man talking to her. Even from Lola's distant perch, his interest was palpable, and her temper flared. He'd never gazed at her as he was gazing at his companion.

Cedric approached the cooing pair, but Jackson waved him away. After he skedaddled, Jackson stepped in so close that Lola was terrified he might kiss the silly nuisance. His affection was that blatant. He didn't though. In the end, he simply squeezed her hand, and the stealthy gesture set off alarm bells.

Who was she? How had he met her? When had their amour ignited? Most importantly, how had Lola failed to notice what was transpiring right under her nose?

The girl spun and hurried into the house across the way, so she was a neighbor! How ghastly! How irksome! It meant she would be conveniently available for subsequent flirtation.

Well, his romantic conquests were always fleeting, and they were about to leave for the country. He'd been invited to a gambling party and he'd agreed that she could come along. Actually, she'd demanded to come along; she was tired of how often he ignored her. Cedric was coming with them too, so it wouldn't be ideal, but at least for the next two weeks, he'd be separated from the little pest. It would give Lola plenty of time to figure out how to quash the pathetic liaison.

He watched the girl depart, his expression filled with yearning, as if he couldn't bear to part from her. Then he whipped away and walked to their own door. She heard him arrive, and she pasted on a smile and waltzed down the stairs to cordially greet him—like the most devoted wife.