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‘You enjoy children, then.’
Was she being tested? ‘Yes. Travelling with the army, there were always some running about. My father and I became attached to several, particularly the son of Father’s sergeant-major. Jemmie foraged for us, watched out for Papa’s horses, and generally made himself useful.’ A prospective suitor needed to know about Charles, but it was probably best not to fully reveal her connection to the other orphans just yet.
‘It shows broadness of character, to appreciate even children of that class.’
Theo had to keep herself from stiffening. He was, after all, repeating what most of his peers would say. Only someone like Dominic Ransleigh, who’d been with army, could understand what these children had been through and how dear they were to her.
How was she to safeguard them, though, if her eventual husband wanted her to have nothing further to do with them?
Her chest tightened and for a moment, it was difficult to breathe. One problem at a time, she told herself. First, she needed to find prospects who’d accept Charles. Whatever happened afterward, she’d make sure her other charges were protected.
Lord Sayle seemed to have cleared that first hurdle.
Smiling determinedly, she prodded him for more details about his land and children, which he willingly supplied. Respecting her reticence, he made no further enquiries about her own upbringing and circumstances.
Unlike herself, who’d stuck her nose immediately into Dominic Ransleigh’s affairs.
He’d not slapped her down for it. Would Lord Sayle, were she to let her true ‘colonel’s daughter’ nature show?
She suppressed a sigh. If matters between them progressed, she’d find that out in due time.
Conversation became more general, several other ladies vying to secure Sayle’s attention—one of them, a dazzling blonde with a scandalously low décolletage, giving her an angry glance for having monopolised it thus far.
So it begins, navigating the ton’s fields of fire, Theo realised ruefully.
* * *
When, some hours later, she met her aunt to gather their cloaks and depart, she had to admit dinner had not been as dismal as she’d feared.
As soon as they were enclosed within the privacy of their carriage, Aunt Amelia said, ‘What did you think of Lord Sayle? He seemed quite attentive.’
‘He was...pleasant. When asked, he told me about his estate and fields and his children, just as you assured me. I promise you, though he asked, I evaded giving any details about my own upbringing and experiences, so I don’t think I shocked him.’
‘Thank heavens for that!’ Lady Coghlane said with a chuckle. ‘I believe you made quite a favourable impression.’
‘How could you tell? We talked for a time, it’s true, but before long his attention was claimed—almost forcibly—by other ladies, especially the blonde on his right.’
‘Lady Serena—Mrs Maxwell,’ her aunt said with a sniff. ‘Thinks she’s entitled to the admiration of any gentleman within sight of her lovely face or dulcet voice.’
Theo grinned at her tone. ‘Not a favourite of yours.’
‘No. She’s a shameless flirt, who may or may not be collecting lovers while her poor husband languishes in the country. But having already provided him with the requisite heir and two more, he lets her go her own way.’
To be married and yet alone...that would be worse than losing Marshall, she thought. ‘Sad.’
‘Perhaps, but not uncommon. Few couples find what you and Marshall shared. I’m pleased you liked Sayle, and even more pleased he liked you, but he’s hardly the only champion! I’ve planned a little tête-à-tête with a friend tomorrow, to examine other possibilities. But you won yourself one suitor tonight, which is useful in making other gentlemen more attentive.’
‘What makes you so sure? We hardly spoke after the beginning of dinner, and Lady Serena hung on his arm all during tea, once the gentlemen rejoined us.’
‘Perhaps, but though his attention might be drawn away by that annoying Lady Serena or someone else, his gaze always turned back to you.’
Her aunt’s words brought to mind the man to whom her gaze always returned. Dom.
A frisson of desire and longing rippled through her. Damnation, that prudence and propriety had forced her to forgo tasting in full measure the bountiful passion that always simmered between them.
Then, as she recalled Lord Sayle’s kissing her hand as he bid her goodbye, the observation struck her.
Not once around him had she felt that heated anticipation in the pit of the stomach she felt always when she was near Dominic Ransleigh.
* * *
The next afternoon, Theo returned to her aunt’s house, refreshed after a long walk in Hyde Park with Charles and Constancia. There’d been ducks to feed on the Serpentine, a vendor selling meat pasties, and some beautiful high-stepping bays being exercised by a groom. Trotting back to the waiting carriage after the excursion, her son declared London not so bad a place after all.
After seeing him to his room, Theo returned to her own chamber. She’d just tidied her windblown hair when the butler came up to inform her that Lady Coghlane would like the pleasure of Theo’s company for tea.
Knowing her aunt had conferred with a friend earlier that day, Theo returned the expected acceptance and walked to her aunt’s sitting room, a sense of dread in her belly.
‘Come in, my dear,’ her aunt called, her smile brightening as she took in Theo’s new gown in Prussian blue, done up with frogged fasteners, à la Hussar. ‘Very fetching! Marston has done good work—although we must also visit the modiste tomorrow and let you choose some fashionable gowns of your own!’
‘I do like the military style of this one. Although, if the evening gown I wore last night is an example of what’s “fashionable”, I’m going to go about feeling like I’ve joined the demi-monde!’
‘Nonsense! Lady Serena’s gown was lower in the bust than yours by a good two inches. But I didn’t ask you here to discuss gowns, but something more important.’
‘More important than gowns? Isn’t that statement a sacrilege?’
‘Almost,’ her aunt agreed with a chuckle. ‘But discussing your prospects is more important.’
Theo’s humour evaporated instantly. Annoyed at the response, she told herself that since marriage was inevitable, she might as well begin looking on it more optimistically.
Think of the prize. A whole childhood’s worth of time to walk in the park, skip stones, eat meat pasties and watch high-stepping horses with her son.
‘Very well,’ she said with determined cheerfulness. ‘What do your spies report?’
‘I called on an old friend from our come-out days, Sally Jersey. She’s one of the patronesses of Almack’s, very well connected, and knows everyone. She’d already heard about your appearance at Jane’s dinner, and confirmed that Lord Sayle is definitely interested.’
‘Really, Aunt, how could she possibly know?’
‘Oh, a comment to a friend at his club, overheard by a servant, who mentioned it to one of hers—she has her little informants all over town. Anyway, I think we can include him on the list.’
‘There’s a list?’
‘Of course. I’d already begun compiling one, but wanted to get Sally’s opinion.’
Theo shook her head. ‘Sounds like preparation for a military campaign.’
‘It is a campaign, of a sort. Finding the proper marriage partner always is, for a girl of your station.’
‘No one just falls in love?’ she asked, only half in jest.
Her aunt looked up, sympathy in her eyes. ‘It does happen—but why not carefully cultivate the prospects, so if you do fall in love, the gentleman in question is suitable?’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Theo admitted. Not just anyone would do—she needed a husband with the same power and standing in the polite world as Lord Hazlett, if she hoped to keep Charles out of the hands of his grandparents. ‘Very well, who’s on the list?’
‘Two widowers, Mr James Lloyd, very wealthy and well connected—his father was the Duke of Ingleston’s youngest son. Lord Terrington, another baron with extensive property and a large motherless family, and Jeremy Carleton. He’s not much older than you, an amusing rattle always welcome in company, much sought after for his charm and wit, but always evasive of marriage.’
‘So why would he be interested in me?’
‘All the loveliest, most accomplished girls have been paraded before him—and he’s shown not a bit of interest. When she twigged him about his elusiveness, Sally said he replied that all the girls were beautiful, sang and played delightfully—and were as boringly similar as if produced by the same sausage press. Sally thinks he’d be intrigued by someone different and unexpected.’
‘I’m certainly that,’ Theo said ruefully. ‘Though if rather ungraciously comparing young ladies, who were doing their best to be pleasant company, to ground meat is a comment typical of his wit, we might end up at daggers drawn.’
