Think—her goddaughter with a fortune of fifty thousand pounds; her godson and favourite nephew, a younger son with no expectations whatsoever—clearly a match made in heaven.’
Her eyes widened as that stabbed home. Oh, God! Why hadn’t she seen it? No wonder Lady Arnsworth had assured her that there would be no swarms of fortune hunters! She took a couple of careful, deep breaths and met Richard’s gaze.
He was looking at her oddly. ‘Are you feeling quite the thing?’
She took a sip of tea. If she looked as shocked as she felt, then he had some cause for asking.
‘Perfectly well, thank you, sir,’ she lied. ‘Er, thank you for your honesty.’ At least he had been honest.
He frowned. ‘Thea, if you think I am going to call you Miss Winslow and stand upon ceremony with you, then think again,’ he said in rising irritation. ‘And stop calling me sir!’
At this inauspicious moment the door opened and the butler came in with a coffee pot.
‘Your coffee, sir.’ His tones oozed reproof.
‘Ah, thank you, Myles. That will be all.’
‘Yes, sir. Very good, sir.’ Myles placed the coffee pot before Richard and removed himself with all the air of a man removing himself from potential crossfire.
Thea met Richard’s glare head on. ‘Mr Blakehurst, you have been so kind as to make clear your position—mine is similar. I have no interest in marriage to you whatsoever. If you are concerned that your aunt wishes to promote a match between us, you may rest assured she will receive no encouragement or assistance from me. Good day. Sir. If you will take my advice, any familiarity between us will merely encourage any mistaken assumptions! In future I shall request breakfast in my bedchamber. It will be far safer for both of us if we are not alone together!’
She stalked out, leaving Richard contemplating his breakfast, furiously aware that he had displayed all the finesse of a cavalry charge. Nor had he made his position clear. Now that he thought about it, she had always been able to get under his skin with the greatest of ease, deflecting him from what he wished to say. And that knack she had of getting the last word was like to drive him insane.
But at least their argument had banished the shadows in her eyes. They’d been positively snapping sparks before she walked out. As though the waxwork doll had come to life or split to let out the old, passionate Thea…She was still too pale—or perhaps it was just the effect of the slightly too big, dull grey gown.
Muttering to himself, he poured a cup of coffee and stirred in several lumps of sugar. What really annoyed him was that in one sense she was right about them avoiding each other. The last thing Almeria needed was encouragement. She would be having a field day, dropping not-so-chance remarks about duty and commenting on all the advantages of the union—he paused, quite unable to think of any arguments Almeria would be able to advance in his cause beyond the purely mercenary ones. He didn’t, however, let that fool him into believing Almeria wouldn’t think of some.
He didn’t want to avoid Thea. Why the hell should he? They were friends, and how the devil could he discover if they would suit if they were avoiding each other?
Chapter Three
T hea stared at the rose-pink gauze evening gown in the arms of the modiste’s assistant. She loved pink and this was, without a doubt, at the very forefront of fashion, but…She gulped—it appeared to be missing its bodice…and the sleeves consisted of the tiniest scraps of gauze…but the way the light shifted on it…as though it were alive. Delicate embroidered flowers decorated the rouleau at the hem. Temptation flickered; involuntarily her fingertips brushed over it. So soft, so fine—there was nothing of it at all…She drew back.
‘N…no. No, I couldn’t possibly wear that,’ she said cravenly.
‘Mais, mademoiselle,’ wailed the modiste, ‘it is of the finest, ze mos’
Her eyes widened as that stabbed home. Oh, God! Why hadn’t she seen it? No wonder Lady Arnsworth had assured her that there would be no swarms of fortune hunters! She took a couple of careful, deep breaths and met Richard’s gaze.
He was looking at her oddly. ‘Are you feeling quite the thing?’
She took a sip of tea. If she looked as shocked as she felt, then he had some cause for asking.
‘Perfectly well, thank you, sir,’ she lied. ‘Er, thank you for your honesty.’ At least he had been honest.
He frowned. ‘Thea, if you think I am going to call you Miss Winslow and stand upon ceremony with you, then think again,’ he said in rising irritation. ‘And stop calling me sir!’
At this inauspicious moment the door opened and the butler came in with a coffee pot.
‘Your coffee, sir.’ His tones oozed reproof.
‘Ah, thank you, Myles. That will be all.’
‘Yes, sir. Very good, sir.’ Myles placed the coffee pot before Richard and removed himself with all the air of a man removing himself from potential crossfire.
Thea met Richard’s glare head on. ‘Mr Blakehurst, you have been so kind as to make clear your position—mine is similar. I have no interest in marriage to you whatsoever. If you are concerned that your aunt wishes to promote a match between us, you may rest assured she will receive no encouragement or assistance from me. Good day. Sir. If you will take my advice, any familiarity between us will merely encourage any mistaken assumptions! In future I shall request breakfast in my bedchamber. It will be far safer for both of us if we are not alone together!’
She stalked out, leaving Richard contemplating his breakfast, furiously aware that he had displayed all the finesse of a cavalry charge. Nor had he made his position clear. Now that he thought about it, she had always been able to get under his skin with the greatest of ease, deflecting him from what he wished to say. And that knack she had of getting the last word was like to drive him insane.
But at least their argument had banished the shadows in her eyes. They’d been positively snapping sparks before she walked out. As though the waxwork doll had come to life or split to let out the old, passionate Thea…She was still too pale—or perhaps it was just the effect of the slightly too big, dull grey gown.
Muttering to himself, he poured a cup of coffee and stirred in several lumps of sugar. What really annoyed him was that in one sense she was right about them avoiding each other. The last thing Almeria needed was encouragement. She would be having a field day, dropping not-so-chance remarks about duty and commenting on all the advantages of the union—he paused, quite unable to think of any arguments Almeria would be able to advance in his cause beyond the purely mercenary ones. He didn’t, however, let that fool him into believing Almeria wouldn’t think of some.
He didn’t want to avoid Thea. Why the hell should he? They were friends, and how the devil could he discover if they would suit if they were avoiding each other?
Chapter Three
T hea stared at the rose-pink gauze evening gown in the arms of the modiste’s assistant. She loved pink and this was, without a doubt, at the very forefront of fashion, but…She gulped—it appeared to be missing its bodice…and the sleeves consisted of the tiniest scraps of gauze…but the way the light shifted on it…as though it were alive. Delicate embroidered flowers decorated the rouleau at the hem. Temptation flickered; involuntarily her fingertips brushed over it. So soft, so fine—there was nothing of it at all…She drew back.
‘N…no. No, I couldn’t possibly wear that,’ she said cravenly.
‘Mais, mademoiselle,’ wailed the modiste, ‘it is of the finest, ze mos’
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