Regency Marriages. Elizabeth Rolls

her scanty bodice, as she placed her hand in his. She remembered Lord Dunhaven well; she had never liked him. Lady Dunhaven had always been casting nervous glances at him, agreeing with everything he said.

      ‘How do you do, my lord?’ She curtsied slightly as he bowed over her hand, and the odour of his pomaded hair sank into her. Her stomach roiled, but she lifted her chin. His lordship seemed inclined to retain possession of her hand and place it on his arm, but she withdrew it firmly. Something about Lord Dunhaven made her skin crawl, even through her white kid gloves. She quelled the urge to rub her glove as though it might be soiled. There was something about the way he looked at her—assessing, judging, as though she were a filly he contemplated buying.

      ‘It is some years since you were in town, Miss Winslow,’ he said. ‘I will be happy to act as your guide in some measure. Aberfield was most anxious that your time in London should be spent profitably.’

      Thea barely suppressed a snort. ‘Really, sir? I am sure we can depend on Lady Arnsworth to ensure that my time is not wasted.’

      ‘Yes, indeed,’ said her ladyship. ‘I have no doubt that—’

      ‘Almeria! How lovely to see you! And Miss Winslow! How delightful!’

      Whatever Lady Arnsworth had meant to say was lost as Lady Chasewater came up to greet them.

      ‘My dear—I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you again so soon—how much it gladdens my mother’s heart.’

      Dragging in a breath, Thea pinned a smile in place. ‘Lady Chasewater,’ she said with a smile. ‘How kind of you.’

      Something lit in Lady Chasewater’s eyes, a spark deep within. ‘My dear, you must not feel obliged to me. My poor Nigel—there! his name is spoken between us—let me assure you, he would not have expected you to mourn—now, would he?’

      Thea shook her head. God help her, it was the truth.

      ‘Of course not,’ said Lady Chasewater. ‘And I am so glad you have returned,’ she continued, patting Thea’s hand. ‘People do say such foolish things, you know. But you may count on me to do everything I can. Perhaps if you were to drive with me in the park one day …’

      Somehow Thea’s heart kept pumping gelid blood around her body. Somehow she held herself still, mastered the frantic need to pull her hands away, and kept a smile frozen to her face as her voice fought its way past the choking blockage in her throat.

      ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

      Lady Arnsworth chimed in, ‘Yes, indeed, Dorothea will be honoured. An excellent notion and so kind of you, Laetitia. It will do her a great deal of good to be seen with you.’

      ‘Oh, tush, Almeria!’ said Lady Chasewater. ‘Why, she was to be my daughter-in-law!’ Her gaze flashed to Thea. ‘I would have been a grandmama by now. And poor Nigel has been dead these eight years, and no one ever speaks of him to me.’ A sad smile accompanied these words. ‘I know Dorothea will understand! I may call you Dorothea?’ As she spoke, she released Thea’s hands with a little pressure.

      ‘Of course, ma’am.’

      ‘And you will drive with me?’

      A drive in the park. That was all. So why did she feel as though she were being manoeuvred to the gallows?

      She lifted her chin. ‘Thank you, ma’am. That will be delightful.’

      Lady Chasewater inclined her head. ‘Excellent, my dear. I shall send a little note round. Now, if I am not much mistaken, Lord Dunhaven wishes to stroll with you, Dorothea, and is wishing me elsewhere.’ She cast an arch smile at his lordship, who smirked and disclaimed.

      ‘Aberfield must be pleased to know that Dorothea is drawing such distinguished attention.’ She rapped his lordship on the arm with her fan. ‘And so pleasant to see you again now that your period of mourning is over. I am sure we all hope to see you happy again very soon.’

      Lacing her farewells with another gracious smile, she glided away through the crowd.

      ‘If you would honour me, Miss Winslow?’ Dunhaven extended his arm, and Lady Arnsworth cleared her throat. He accorded her the briefest of smiles. ‘Your ladyship has no objection?’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Lady Arnsworth, although Thea had the distinct impression that she would have liked to rattle off several objections.

      As they strolled, Lord Dunhaven presenting her to this person and that, Thea could almost feel the whispers eddying in their wake. Faint smiles, half-hidden behind fans, betrayed a cynical acceptance. And as they proceeded she felt colder and colder from the inside out, as though the chill leached from somewhere deep within. She kicked her chin a notch higher, and told herself that a few people sliding away through the crowd at their approach meant nothing, that the speculative sideways glances were mere curiosity, nothing more.

      Lord Dunhaven appeared not to notice, as though such things were beneath him. Instead he regaled Thea with an exact account of all the various improvements he had undertaken at his principal country seat, the refurbished stables, the rearrangement of the principal apartments.

      ‘I should like very much to show it all to you, Miss Winslow,’ he said, after telling her how his new billiard room was laid out.

      Before Thea could do more than skim over all the possible ramifications of this, she prickled with sudden awareness as a tall figure came up beside her. She turned sharply and warmth flooded her, dispelling the growing chill.

      Richard, immaculately turned out in utterly correct evening garb.

      ‘Good evening, Miss Winslow. Servant, Dunhaven.’

      Thea blinked. Anything less servant-like than Richard’s clipped tones would have been hard to imagine. He sounded as though he’d swallowed a razor blade made of ice. Even his bow held an arrogance that reminded her all at once that he was after all the son of an earl, one of the damn-your-eyes Blakehursts: assured, at home in the ton for all his scholarly nature.

      The contrast between the two men was startling. Very few would have described Richard’s evening clothes as stylish, but somehow the comfortably fitted coat over broad, lean shoulders had a greater elegance than Dunhaven’s tightly fitted and, she suspected, padded coat. Dunhaven dripped with expensive fobs, rings and a very large diamond blazed in his cravat. Richard’s jewellery consisted of a pearl nestled quietly in his cravat and a plain gold ring.

      Dunhaven looked his disdain. ‘Ah, Mr Blakehurst, is it not? How surprising to see you here.’

      A spurt of anger shot through Thea at the sneering tone, but Richard merely looked amused.

      ‘Is it, Dunhaven? I assure you that I overcome my boredom with this sort of thing quite regularly enough for the hostesses not to completely despair of my attendance.’ He smiled at Thea. ‘Good evening, Miss Winslow. May I take you to find some champagne?’

      Thea blinked. As simple as that.

      ‘Certainly, sir. That would be lovely. I’m sure his lordship will excuse me.’

      Dunhaven’s hand came across and settled in hard possession on Thea’s fingers, clamping them to his arm. ‘There is no need, Miss Winslow. I shall be happy to escort you and find you something suitable for a lady to drink. Some ratafia, I think you would prefer.’

      Not the usual paralysing fear, but anger surged through her. With a sharp movement, she slid her fingers from under Dunhaven’s grip. Telling her what to do was bad enough, but presuming to tell her what she would like was going entirely too far. Besides, she didn’t like ratafia.

      ‘Dunhaven! Just the man I was looking for.’

      The newcomer was familiar to Thea. Tall, with jet-black hair and brilliant, deep blue eyes—surely … Shock lurched through her—yes, it was David’s friend, Julian Trentham … only he had succeeded now to his father’s title—Viscount Braybrook.

      He