His arguments had seemed so sound in the carriage, when she was still feeling emotionally vulnerable from their discussion about her family. Now she was sure there had to be a better way to protect her aunt's reputation. She hated lying, and the deception had only just begun. Everyone she met from this point forward would believe that she was engaged to Drake.
He'd made sure of that by putting an announcement in both of the major London newspapers. She had protested the announcement as unnecessary, but he had said the damage was already done. Besides, he argued, his mother would expect it.
His mother.
Thea genuinely liked Lady Noreen. She was everything a lady of the ton was expected to be and yet she was also kind, loving toward her family, and fiercely protective of her son. It hadn't taken Thea any time at all to work out that Lady Noreen had remained unattached through her son's childhood so there would never be a risk of him being rejected and shunted off to live with relatives in some remote location.
She wanted only the best for Drake and had sacrificed her own pursuits to ensure he got it. Lady Noreen was in alt over his decision to wed, treating Thea just like the daughter she never had, which made the false engagement even worse, to Thea's way of thinking.
When she had brought her concerns on that score to Drake, he had dismissed them with the assurance he had no plans to disappoint his mother.
Was it any wonder she spent a good part of each day wanting to throttle him? Thea asked herself.
The confusing part was that she spent the rest of her time wanting to touch him. It was his close proximity. He never let her out of his sight, except when she went shopping with his mother and the others. He'd been quick enough to make himself scarce this morning when Lady Noreen announced their intentions.
Drat the man. If he was going to plague her, he should at least have the decency to stand by her during an ordeal like shopping for clothes in London. She tipped her head back on the chair and allowed her eyes to shut. She would rest for just a minute before tackling the ledgers again.
"My poor, exhausted darling."
Thea's eyes flew open at the sound of Drake's voice, but she had been half asleep and it took careful thought to reason out what he had said. When she did, she frowned up at him.
He loomed over her, looking altogether too tempting in his simple, elegant clothes. He made other men, particularly the London dandies she had seen, look foolishly ornamented.
"So, you have come out of hiding now that the torture is over."
He widened his eyes innocently. "Torture? I thought you went shopping."
She straightened in the chair and groaned loudly at the stiffness in her body. "Same thing. Have you ever been shopping with your aunt?"
He put out his hand and she took it. Pulling her to her feet, he said, "Once. For some new gloves."
The mere mention of the word gloves made her shudder. Lady Boyle had insisted on buying gloves to match every one of the new outfits they had ordered, and she had made Thea try them all on, as if one pair of gloves were going to fit differently than another. "Then you have some small idea of what I have been through. I thought my aunt a frail old woman, but she and Lady Boyle left me gasping for air after the third modiste."
She hobbled after him on swollen feet as he pulled her across the room to a small sofa under the window. The light played over the crimson cushions invitingly. She liked Lady Boyle's library. Its quiet simplicity soothed her. The same books she had grown up reading graced the shelves and gave her a feeling of belonging amid this all too foreign environment. She loved the smell of rich leather and paper that permeated the room as well. It was so much better than the city smells that assaulted her the moment she left Lady Boyle's town house.
"I thought all ladies liked the excitement of buying a new wardrobe." She could tell from the devilment sparkling in his eyes that he was trying to bait her.
"Our aunts and your mother certainly do. Even if it is for someone else. In fact, I'm sure that aspect enhanced their enjoyment. They didn't have to suffer through the fittings."
He pressed her down onto the sofa. "But you did not enjoy it."
She glared up at him. "Do I look like I've had a pleasant afternoon? I spent hours being poked and prodded by women who must
have read the works of the Marquis de Sade."
He made a choking sound. "Do not tell me that you have read his work."
She was back to wanting to throttle him. "Of course not."
Drake nodded and joined her on the sofa. "So how do you know about him?"
"I was raised in the West Indies, not a convent. Sailors talk. Especially the French." How had they gotten onto such an obscure and uninteresting subject?
She wanted to tell him her complaints, not discuss sailors' gossip, but all thought of gossip and complaining went right out of her head when Drake lifted her feet into his lap.
Shifting the hem of her gown above her ankles, he exposed her feet. "You are wearing stockings."
Sometimes he said the strangest things. "Naturally. Have you not noticed how cold England is?"