Unlacing Lady Thea

Thea saw him, waved, and the last of his ill humour, real and assumed, dropped away.

Benton, having settled her on the bench, strolled over and joined him as he went into the inn to order their meal. ‘I’ve a fancy to ride this afternoon,’ the other man remarked as the landlord went off to relay their requests to the kitchen.

‘I doubt this place has riding horses for hire.’ Rhys leaned back against the counter, crossed his ankles and moved his shoulders in a pleasurable stretch.

‘I thought we might change places for a bit.’ There were definite undertones of an order in the pleasant voice.

‘Did you, indeed?’

‘I have quite recovered from my head wound and I would appreciate the exercise and fresh air,’ Benton said, and added, without changing his tone, ‘and I think some bridge-building between you and Lady Althea might be in order.’

Rhys stared at him. The reticent, polite clergyman was showing an unexpected set of teeth. ‘The devil you say!’

‘You and I both made an error yesterday—you in thinking that Thea would marry where she does not love and me for proposing to her when I had no reason to suspect she favoured me,’ Benton remarked calmly. ‘She could probably do without my company for a bit, and that will allow you to make your peace.’

‘I need to do that, do I?’ Rhys swivelled to face the other man and unclenched his hands, which had balled into fists at his sides. For a moment he had thought Benton was hinting that he knew last night’s events had been a farce.

‘I think so.’

Rhys studied Benton’s thoughtful frown. No, he was too straightforward to throw out hints.

‘Thea hasn’t slept. She looks unhappy.’ Benton picked up the glass of red wine the innkeeper had put before them the moment they walked through the door and held it up to the light, squinting at the colour as he spoke. ‘She does her best to hide it, of course. A very remarkable young lady. Some man is going to be very lucky to win her heart.’

‘Yes,’ Rhys agreed as he took up his own glass. A pity some undeserving idiot had already got Thea’s heart and had no idea what a treasure he held unawares. ‘All right, you take the horse this afternoon, but I warn you, the stupid thing is afraid of goats.’

* * *

The food that was brought out to them was simple but good. Thea breathed the herb-scented, dry air and leaned back against the upright of the pergola that supported a trellis of vines over their heads, filtering the sunshine through to dapple them with shadows. A lad came out and flicked a printed cloth over the table, then laid it with platters of bread studded with olives, goat’s-and sheep’s-milk cheeses, air-dried meats redolent of garlic, more olives and a pitcher of wine.

They all ate well, but conversation lagged. There was nothing she wanted to say to Rhys in company, she and Giles had talked themselves out, there was a faint air of tension between the two men and the effect of a disturbed night had dried up even a well-bred young lady’s resources of small talk, she discovered. Their staff, cheerfully ensconced around another table, had no inhibitions, laughing and chatting and, from what Thea could hear, teaching the post boys some English cant terms.

When she came out of the inn after refreshing herself she found Giles mounted on the horse, which was demonstrating a skittish dislike of the flock of hens that scratched in the dusty road. Giles, who did not seem to have Rhys’s skill on horseback, was cursing mildly as the animal backed and fussed.

‘I thought you said it was goats it objected to,’ he called to Rhys, who was standing by the step of the chaise to help her up.

‘Those are the first chickens we’ve been close to,’ Rhys said with a grin. ‘I’d take care with cows and sheep, too, if I were you.’ He followed her into the carriage. ‘He would ride.’ He shrugged.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘I am fine.’ Rhys shut the door and leaned back in the corner, apparently in order to study her face. ‘Giles thinks we need to talk.’ When she did not answer he added, ‘He is probably correct, although I must admit, talking is not what I would prefer to be doing.’

As if I need reminding! To be alone like this with Rhys, surrounded by windows and perfectly visible to Giles as he trotted alongside, was more difficult than she had imagined it would be. With an instinct not to throw fuel on the fire, she ignored the end of Rhys’s remark and asked, ‘What does he suggest we should be discussing?’

‘He says I should be apologising for urging him to propose to you, and I think he is right.’ He reached to take her ungloved hand in his. The touch of his bare skin on hers sent the fine hairs shivering erect all along her arm. ‘I am sorry, Thea. I should have listened when you said you did not wish to marry without love. I decided that I knew what was best for you because I was worrying about your future and, when what seemed like the perfect man for you dropped at our feet...’ He grimaced. ‘I had never suspected myself of being a matchmaker.’

Her hand was still in his. No one can see, she told herself. ‘Many people matchmake,’ she said, returning the pressure of his fingers to take the sting out of her words. ‘Everyone feels it acceptable to have an opinion about an unmarried woman’s future.’

‘I suppose it is because the position of women by themselves is so precarious. Insufficient money to maintain respectable standards, or a loss of reputation, and the downward slide is rapid.’ He shifted to sit shoulder to shoulder with her and their clasped hands rested on her thigh.

Thea let herself lean very slightly into him and enjoyed the tingle that the pressure of his solid body sent fizzing through her.

‘If women had a better standard of education and were trusted to manage their own affairs, then it would not be such a problem,’ he added, startling her. Then she recalled Giles’s revelation that had become lost in the shock of discovering that he had guessed her feelings for Rhys.

‘Why have you said nothing about your work in Parliament?’ she demanded. ‘Giles told me that you are a valuable supporter of all the progressive legislation, that you are instrumental in persuading, or silencing, the doubters and those that try and obstruct change. Tell me, Hermes, why you let me think you indifferent to the suffering of others so that I misjudged you?’

‘I did not want to turn your tête-à-tête with Giles into a general conversation. I was matchmaking, remember?’

‘I wish you had told me. I should have known that you would have supported such causes.’ She glanced sideways and saw that she was making him uncomfortable with her praise. Good! ‘And tell me, while I am chiding you, why did you say you did not expect a wife who shared your interests? You would not expect her to want to live in your pocket, you said. Was that more flummery?’

‘No, it was the truth. I told you what I wanted—a good, domestic wife. I do not want shared passions of any kind—in the bedchamber or in beliefs.’

‘Oh, Rhys.’ He made her want to weep. ‘That is so sad. Think what you will be missing.’

‘Drama? Tantrums? Jealousy? Constant demands on my time and attention? Arguments about politics over breakfast?’

‘And what is so wrong with that? Not the tantrums and jealousy, of course. If you love someone and they share your beliefs and enthusiasms, surely it would be wonderful.’ You and me in harmony, working together for important goals, passionate together in bed at night...

‘I told you, I have no intention of marrying for love.’

‘You will be an unfaithful husband, then? You will keep a mistress?’ If only he could see what he was depriving himself of, how much richer his life would be if he could only believe that he could love and that it would be returned. If he could believe that a woman might be faithful to him.

‘Certainly not. I did not say I would marry a woman I found unattractive. I will be swearing to be faithful, and I will hold to that vow.’

Thea fixed her eyes on the vineyards they were passing through and fought to keep her temper. She believed Rhys when he said he would be faithful to his wife, which meant that he was intending to squander all that passion within himself on a tepid relationship with a woman who would never know what it was to be truly loved. As he would not. His courage was invincible, it seemed, except in this one thing: he would not risk his heart again, even if that meant settling for the safely mediocre.

‘I can hear your thoughts, Thea.’ He sounded amused, but she did not turn to see if he was smiling. ‘You are a true romantic.’ She hunched a shoulder in a pettish refusal to engage with banter and, as if in response, he opened his hand, pressing until her own palm lay flat, his still on top, long fingers threaded through hers. She became aware of a subtle pressure as the pads of his fingers pressed lightly in a rhythm she could not quite catch. It was as if a big cat, claws sheathed, was gently kneading her thigh.

Does he know he is doing that? It made it rather hard to breathe, that rhythm. Thea began to count in her head. One, two, in, out. One, two.

‘I am surprised, you being the romantic you are, that you would contemplate becoming my lover,’ Rhys said. ‘Is that not a betrayal of your true love?’