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“It is too bad we are destined to remain enemies, Benedict. You can be pleasant company sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” I asked, a teasing smile crawling up my lips. My hand itched for hers again. I wanted to reach out and pull her against me, to envelop her in a hug and comfort her with my embrace.
Though, since it was Thea, I doubted a hug from me would be very comforting.
“Very occasionally,” she said. Sadness crept into her eyes, and she stepped forward, closing the gap between us a little more and resting her hand on my forearm, her floral and citrusy smell wafting up and tickling my nose. “Thank you, Ben. That was difficult to read, and I am grateful to have had your support.” She laughed lightly. “Ironic, really, that it is you supporting me as I read about my father’s indiscretions—”
“Ironic? In what way?”
She snatched her hand back quickly, her eyes widening. “I forgot. You have—” She swallowed. “Miss Dodwell, was it?”
Thea’s ability to jump from one topic to the next with no apparent connection made my brain spin. “What of her?”
“She is very beautiful.”
“Yes, she is,” I agreed. Though she did not hold a candle to Thea. I could not very well say so aloud, though. Not without frightening Thea into running from the room.
“She will make a very good wife, I think.” Thea gave a small nod to punctuate her words.
That was an odd thing to say. “Do you know her well?”
Thea shook her head, and I felt her pull away from me in more than just a physical way, her distance both an emotional and physical force that left me bereft. She gathered her letters and refolded them along their original creases. “We did not speak much before I left for school, so I know of her more than I know the woman herself.”
“Then why—”
“Thereyou two are,” Mother said, sweeping into the room. She came to an abrupt halt near the door and looked between us with suspicion. “Have I interrupted something?”
I gestured for Thea to explain. It was her life that had just been torn apart.
She lifted her chin and faced Mother. “I received a letter from Mrs. Richter, the woman my mother and I lived with in Vienna after my father died.” She paused as though her voice would not speak the words that needed to come next. Instead, she lifted her arm, offering the letters to my mother. “Here, Lady Edith. It is better if you read them for yourself. I do not mind.”
Mother crossed the room gracefully and took the letters.
Thea paced away while they were silently being read, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth to chew in her concern. It took every ounce of will I possessed to remain where I stood, my hands grasped together tightly behind my back, and not go to her.
“That is quite the development,” Mother said quietly. “But it is one we can face together, Thea. You will not be forced to help this half-brother’s entrance into Society unless you so choose, and we will write to this”—she looked down and consulted the letter—“Robertson gentleman to ensure that everything was done properly and it is, in fact, a legal will.”
“Thank you,” Thea said, her eyes suspiciously misty. She crossed toward my mother in a few quick steps and was swallowed into her motherly embrace. Mother’s arms went around Thea’s back, soothing her, while the deep violet train of Thea’s riding habit spread out regally on the carpet behind her. I’d never before been so envious of my mother, but I wanted to be standing where she was now, offering the comfort she was able to give so freely.
I clenched my jaw to fight the impulse to join them, to hold Thea against my chest. I had never before fully understood the power of longing to drive a man mad until I watched Thea embrace someone else and wished it was me instead.
Pulling my gaze from the women, I quietly circled them and left the room. I could see it was time to retreat.
* * *
Exactly four days later, I received word from Lord Claverley’s steward that Bumpton Hall was empty and the groundskeeper would be happy to give me a tour of the place whenever I should find it convenient to visit. The words had a great impact on making my future tangible, and I had the sudden desire to see the house straight away.
I found Henry in the long, narrow library, the dark-paneled walls richly lit from the midday sunlight slanting through the open windows.
“Would you care to go for a ride?” I asked, coming to rest in front of his chair.
Henry put his book face down on his leg and looked up at me. “Did I not see you returning from a ride this morning?”
“You did.” I had hoped, in vain, to find Thea waiting for me at the stables at dawn. She had not joined me to ride since before the night of the Bakewell assemblies, and I feared something had happened to alter her opinion of me. It was too similar to last time, when I’d thought we were becoming friends and suddenly everything changed without explanation.
Though, to be fair, I had not yet sought an explanation. I could not be angry with her for failing to provide one until I’d asked her about it.
I pasted an easy smile on my face. “I have some business to see to, and I would like to have your opinion on it, if you think you can be spared.”
