His father had heard of Neal’s clandestine meetings with Thea and had traveled with all haste to set down the rule that it had to stop ... and then he’d told Neal about the curse.
Neal could recall every detail of that moment. The intimate glow of the candle that had created a ring of light around them in the dark, the heat of the wax, and the smell of leather and book bindings in his father’s library mixed with that of horses and the dust of the road, the taste of the brandy his father had given him.
But Neal had forgotten until now that his father had asked if he’d had dreams that had included a witch’s laughter. His father’s reaction had been strong and decisive when Neal had answered that, yes, he’d had strange, jumbled dreams lately that he could not remember anything of—save the maniacal laughter. It had sounded like the ravings of a mind gone mad.
His father had ordered Neal to pack. Theywould leave at first light for London, and his father had made him promise to never speak of Thea again.
His father, a man he’d idolized and yet had barely known.
How could Neal have forgotten their conversation about the dream?
And why did he remember it now?
Chapter Eleven
Thea woke the next morning feeling more relaxed and at peace with the world than she had been in years. She stretched, and immediately muscles she’d not used in a long time let her know they were still alive.
Alive,yes, that was what she felt.
She blushed, remembering how wanton she’d been with Neal. He’d tapped into long-suppressed desires, and she was glad he had.
Thea bound out of bed, perfectly comfortable with her nakedness. Sunlight poured through the window. She’d slept late, something she rarely did.
Her torn nightdress was still on the floor. She snatched it up and hugged it to her, reliving the memory of Neal ripping it off her body. The image sent her blood pounding through her veins. She couldn’t wait to see him again.
She quickly saw to her toilette, then crossed to the wardrobe to choose what she would wear. Itwasn’t a difficult decision. Her wardrobe wasn’t that extensive. She chose the blue day dress she wore most often—however today was different. She was dressing for Lyon. The blue brought out the color in her eyes. Once, the butcher she’d patronized had told her that she looked fetching in it, and that was how she wanted Neal to see her—fetching. Such as perhaps he wouldfetchher back up the stairs to the bedroom.
She laughed at her own silliness. But she also wasn’t as strict when styling her hair. She loosened her usually tight knot and allowed wisps to curl around her ears.
Her ears.They still tingled with the sensation of his kissing them.
But what made her happiest was that she had her friend Neal back in her life. He was her friendandher lover. What could be better?
And hewantedto marry her. After the enthusiasm with which they’d made love, she had no doubt of his desire. The man was a beast, and she practically purred her contentment.
When they had been discovered in each other’s arms by the Montvales and their like, she had refused him because she’d hated the idea of his hand being forced. However, his kisses had convincedher that he, a man who could have any woman in London he desired, was indeed choosing her.
The miracle of it threatened to overwhelm her, especially since her sons would be excited over the news she had married Neal. She had no doubt how they would feel about having Neal as their stepfather. There would be no more worries about food or schooling, and they would learn to ride real horses instead of playing with wooden ones. Neal would not only restore their heritage and birthrights to them but he would also serve as a prime example of what a true gentleman was.
She met Mirabel out in the hallway. They didn’t have to do anything but fall into each other’s arms with sisterly hugs.
“I’m so pleased for you,” Mirabel said. “I saw him last night after he left your room. He was a happy man.”
Thea laughed, almost giddy with the joy she was feeling. “I am a lucky woman.”
“I should say so. Every woman in London will be looking daggers of envy at you.” Mirabel stepped back, smiling. “Osgood informed me his lordship sent a messenger to the bishop at first light. My dear, you could be married before this day is done.”
And she would be Neal’s.“I am humbled by my good fortune. I just wish my sons could be here—”
“Don’t wait for them, Thea. Marry Lyon. Osgood has also told me everyone else packed up and left.”
“Without waiting to say anything to you?”
“Of course,” Mirabel said. “They eat my food, guzzle a good portion of Palmer’s wine cellar, and then, poof, they are gone as if I didn’t exist. That’s the way their type is. And to think I was rather pleased they were favoring me with their presence.”
Thea shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Mirabel. I would not have anything I did reflect back on you. I’ve destroyed your standing in society.”
“Oh, no, there you are wrong,” Mirabel declared, slipping her arm in Thea’s. “I’ve been thinking about it, and let us be honest: many toady to Mrs. Pomfrey and Lady Montvale, but few admire them. We are all more intimidated by them than anything else. But this whole affair has placed me at the exact opposite of them. I will support my friend,” she said, giving Thea’s shoulder a squeeze, “regardless of what they say. And watch, I shall be acclaimed for it. The star of my popularity shall rise higher than it would ever have withtheir endorsement. People will befriend me just to hear my side of the story. I’m certain they’ve made a good number of enemies with their high-handed, selfish ways, and I shall richly benefit.”
