‘I do not like to have them under this roof,’ Edgerton said when they found themselves outside the salon for a moment. ‘Lady Hughson has no idea they are here and they have sponged enough on her goodwill and purse, in my opinion.’
‘She has been supporting them? For how long?’ Thea gestured a maid with armfuls of linens into a bedchamber as far as possible from Rhys’s.
‘Since virtually the time they eloped. If it was not for her, they would be in debtors’ prison, I have no doubt,’ Edgerton said, the set of his mouth showing clearly what he thought of the matter.
‘I find it hard to believe,’ Thea murmured. ‘They betrayed Rhys....’
‘Does it seem to you that Lady Hughson added to that betrayal by helping them afterwards? She told me that if Lord Palgrave loved Lady Serena he would not want her destitute, whatever happened and, besides, she had sworn to care for all her godchildren. In a way, I think she felt guilty that she had not realised what was going on and that she had not been a better influence on Lady Serena.’
‘I doubt anything, short of a miracle, would have changed Serena.’ She stopped a hurrying maid. ‘Are the baths ready? Il bagno?’
‘Si, madonna.’
Thea mentally rolled up her sleeves and went back into the salon. ‘Gentlemen, your baths are ready. Rhys, I have told the footman to take some clothes from your room for Paul. Mr Edgerton’s would be too small. Serena, I suggest you go and lie down.’ For a moment she wondered if her cavalier disposal of Rhys’s wardrobe to the other man would be the final straw, but he put down his brandy glass and stalked out with a nod of acknowledgement in her direction.
‘I will order refreshments for an hour’s time,’ Edgerton said. ‘I doubt anyone wants to go out tonight.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Thea surveyed the salon and wondered if social situations ever got much trickier. Mr Edgerton had tactfully removed himself, leaving one earl; two earls’ daughters, one of whom had jilted the said earl and the other who had been his mistress; and a gentleman who had wronged the earl, created a scandal and whom the earl had just punched on the jaw. Fortunately, this is not an English drawing room, she thought, suppressing an hysterical giggle, or someone would start discussing the weather or worrying about the seating plan for dinner.
As it was, she had the tea urn by her side and an array of tea cups before her, and that was English and unreal enough, under the circumstances.
‘A cup of tea, Serena?’
‘How could you?’ the other woman said with a shudder from the corner of the sofa where she was draped like a tragic Muse.
‘Very easily. I am positively parched after all that excitement.’ Thea poured herself a cup. ‘I could order you coffee, if you prefer?’
‘You were always so prosaic.’ Serena turned her gaze from a moody examination of the darkening bruise on Paul’s jaw and stared at Thea through narrowed eyes. ‘But you’ve changed. What have you done?’
‘Grown up?’ Thea suggested sweetly. ‘I am several years younger than you, don’t forget, Serena.’ It was unworthy, but she could not resist the barb. Serena’s hair was still as blonde, her big eyes still as blue, but there were faint lines at the corners and more pronounced ones from her nose to the corner of her lips. She must have spent too much time with an expression of dissatisfaction.
‘Rhys? Paul? Tea?’ Neither man had spoken to the other since Rhys had hauled Paul out of the canal.
‘Thank you, no.’ Rhys went to the decanters, poured two brandies and offered one silently to the other man. After a moment’s hesitation, Paul took it. ‘You will not stay here beyond tonight,’ Rhys said, resuming his place before the empty hearth. ‘In Godmama’s absence Mr Edgerton controls this household, and he does not welcome you here.’
‘Can you not forgive me?’ Serena demanded. ‘I know I broke your heart—’
‘No,’ Rhys said, his voice flat. ‘You broke your parents’ hearts, you dealt my self-esteem a severe and probably very healthy blow and you caused great embarrassment and distress to a number of people. But if you have spent these past years imagining me pining away for love of you, Serena, you are much mistaken. I was infatuated and dazzled, yes. In love, no.’
She gaped at him. Thea, in a muddle of confused emotions, knew she was probably gaping, too. Somehow she had never quite believed that he had not loved Serena, but there was no mistaking the stark truth of what he was saying now.
‘Then why the hell did you damn near drown me?’ Paul Weston demanded.
Rhys looked him up and down. ‘For betraying my trust, for lying to a friend, for distressing all our families. How is that for a start? There was no need for any of that drama. If you had been man enough to tell me that you loved Serena—and if she had not enjoyed being courted by two men quite so much—then I would have helped you, somehow.’
‘But we didn’t want to hurt you,’ Serena wailed.
Thea wanted to leave, to get away from Rhys’s brutal frankness on one side and Serena’s dramatics on the other, but this was too much. ‘Hurt him?’ she demanded. ‘You mean you didn’t want to face up to what you had done. You had no concerns about hurting anyone, just as long as you were not around to bear the consequences. Paul was weak and deceitful and a bad friend, but you were selfish and heedless. Did you not realise that if Rhys had come after you he could have killed Paul? He is a better shot and better swordsman.’
‘What stopped you?’ Paul was white-faced, the bruise still red and stark. With his blond hair and dark eyes Thea had always thought him the more conventionally good-looking, but now, comparing the two as grown men, she saw the weakness in his face and the signs of self-indulgence around his waistline and jowls.
‘Thea stopped me.’ Rhys did not look at her as he spoke.
‘I have had more than enough of this.’ Thea got to her feet. ‘It was bad enough at the time without raking over the cold ashes of it now. I do not feel well and I am going to my bed.’ It was true enough. Her stomach was cramping, her back was aching and all she wanted was to lie down.
* * *
Thea looked white and drawn and as though she was in pain. Rhys wondered whether he should go after her or whether it was best to leave her to Polly. She’d probably had more than enough of his company today.
‘Of course! How silly of me never to have suspected it,’ Serena said, her eyes bright and full of delighted speculation. ‘Thea was in love with you all along, the secretive little cat! She stopped you coming after me because she wanted you for herself. And she is in love with you still—I could see it in her face. The maid said you aren’t married, but you’ve been travelling together. Lord, who is the one making a scandal now?’
Even as he controlled his expression Rhys knew he could not stop the blood draining from his face. He could feel the cold, tight sensation over his cheekbones.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, she was sixteen, Serena. Hardly a femme fatale plotting to ensnare a man. Thea is my friend and always has been, although I realise that friendship between a man and a woman is a difficult concept for you to grasp. I have escorted her here to Godmama because she had left home after a falling-out with her father—that is the scandal if you are so avid for one.’
‘And she was as plain a child as you could come across, and a tomboy to boot, Serena,’ Paul chipped in, almost earning himself another thump on the jaw.
‘Well, she isn’t plain now,’ Serena snapped. ‘She’s not a beauty, but she’s got style.’
‘What does it matter to you whether she’s an Incomparable or bracket faced?’ Rhys demanded, desperate to get Serena’s, and his own thoughts, off the subject. ‘Now, where are you two living?’
‘Oh, horrible lodgings,’ Serena began. ‘So damp and—’
‘They aren’t that bad,’ Paul put in. ‘Just rather simple. And the rent’s due,’ he added.
‘What have you been living on?’ Other than Godmama?
‘My father pays my allowance on condition we don’t go back to England. I play cards a bit. I’ve acted as courier for English tourists now and again.’ Paul shrugged and glanced down at Serena. ‘We get by, don’t we, my love?’
Her lush, lovely mouth trembled and Rhys was reminded, painfully, of how much he had once desired her. He expected her to make some complaint, but she looked up at Paul and held out her hand to him. ‘Yes, we get by.’ She shot a resentful glance at Rhys. ‘It is called love.’
She really does love him, he thought. They have been together for six years and it cannot have been easy and yet somehow they are still together. Paul had acted like a dishonourable idiot, but he was not unintelligent. He would have come to his senses soon enough if he had simply been infatuated as Rhys had been. Was Thea right? Was love a real, lasting emotion that could form the basis of a happy marriage under even these circumstances?
‘You’d better go to your room,’ Rhys said abruptly. He followed them out and went, without a word, to his own room, unlocked his writing case and drew out a rouleau of guineas. He was probably an idiot, but forgiveness was supposed to be a virtue, wasn’t it?