Regency Marriages. Elizabeth Rolls

in her face. Pain? This was not the moment to suggest to her that maybe they should give some thought to Almeria’s matchmaking. Not when she had just stopped calling him sir with every second breath. Instead, he said gently, ‘Thea, we need not consider it. You must know that I would never court any woman for her fortune, let alone you. We can still be friends, can we not? Despite Almeria’s meddling?’

      For a moment Thea hesitated. Friends … it would be safer not … Yet, unbidden, some long-buried, unrecognisable sensation unfurled within her. She nodded. ‘Friends. Yes.’

      He smiled. ‘Good. Then leave Miss Winslow in the drawing room where she belongs.’ He rose, stepped carefully over the mess of ink and broken glass and china and went over to a large, old-fashioned chest under the window. ‘Now, let’s see …’

       Leave Miss Winslow in the drawing room …

      ‘What do you mean?’

      He shot her a glance. ‘Miss Winslow is all very well for the rest of the world. But I’ve always been quite fond of Thea.’

      He knelt down with a muttered curse and pulled out the bottom drawer. ‘Ah hah! Here we are.’

      Despite her confusion, Thea felt the unaccustomed smile curving her lips, warming her heart. He had found the old chess set he had taught her to play with. And there in the corner, half-hidden behind a fire screen, was the little chess table.

      That sensation inside her stirred again, and this time she recognised it with shock. It was happiness. She had been so utterly determined to enjoy herself, even if she had to pretend, and here happiness had been quietly waiting within to be let out. Along with the Thea he said he was fond of? Was she waiting to escape too?

      Automatically the old words of challenge rose to her lips. ‘No quarter? No chivalry?’

      His answering smile flashed, lighting the dark brown eyes. ‘To the death!’

      Together they set out the pieces, the memories of all the times they had done this stretching back and forth between them.

      ‘You were about five when I taught you how to do this,’ said Richard.

      She looked up, an answering smile in her eyes. ‘You must have thought I was the most frightful little pest.’

      ‘I did. And I was furious with Almeria. I’d been enjoying my games with Myles. He kept having to rush off to do his job, so I had plenty of time to contemplate my moves. Try to work out what he would do next. And, of course, he could actually play. A distinct advantage.’

      ‘Rather than having to teach me?’

      He thought back, pushing out a pawn. ‘You learnt fast enough. Once you found your voice and started asking questions.’

      ‘I was terrified your leg would fall off,’ confessed Thea.

      ‘What!’ A pawn went flying as he spluttered with laughter.

      She went scarlet. ‘Well, from what Lady Arnsworth told Mama, I thought your leg had been broken off and stuck back on. And my nurse was always saying I could talk the hind leg off a donkey, so I thought if it fell off again while I was there everyone would blame me!’ She glared at him, as though daring him to laugh.

      Laughter shook him anyway, as he righted the fallen pawn. Amazing how one could laugh at a terror almost twenty years old. At the time he’d still been having nightmares that he would lose the leg after all.

      ‘No wonder you didn’t say anything,’ he said with a grin.

      Bit by bit, the constraint between them loosened and he found himself telling her what he had been doing since last he’d seen her. Learning about the land to be, in essence, Max’s steward. ‘Since I have now bought my own place, at least I know what I’m doing,’ he said.

      ‘Your own place?’

      And he told her about the small property just ten miles from Blakeney over the North Downs; the sheep grazing on the uplands and the old house and gardens nestled in their small, hidden valley, sheltered from the worst of the storms that could sweep up the Channel.

      ‘Not grand,’ he said, ‘but it will be a home. Enough for me.’

      ‘Sheep?’ she said. ‘You? I thought you would remain at Oxford.’

      If Max had not inherited, he probably would have. ‘Sheep,’ he informed her, ‘have a long and noble history in this country. I’ve been going through the Blakeney papers. Centuries they go back, and sheep are mentioned frequently.’ Odd, but he was finding the task just as stimulating as more conventional study at Oxford. He tried to explain that to Thea in answer to her questions, and realised that somehow he had done nothing but talk about his own concerns for over an hour.

      He looked at the mantel clock. Well over an hour. ‘I must be boring you rigid!’ he said. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me to shut up?’

      ‘Because you weren’t boring me,’ she said. ‘Because I was imagining it all, and seeing how right it all is for you. It sounds wonderful, Richard. Peaceful, yet busy. Fulfilling. Something practical to fill your days, and something to occupy your mind. That was always what you needed.’

      With a shock he realised that she was exactly right, that Oxford had never quite been right for him because of that. That he had given it up and come home so readily when Max asked, because deep down he had known that.

      ‘And you?’ he asked. ‘What have your days held?’ Too late he remembered that the question might be unwelcome, but it was gone now, and could no more be recalled than a loosed arrow.

      Only in the tightening of her mouth did he see the question strike home. She didn’t look up from the board, but said at last, ‘Very little. After … after I was considered out of mourning I remained with Aunt Maria. She … she required a companion, and since I had—have—no wish to marry, it seemed the logical thing.’ She moved her knight.

      He didn’t know what to say. She had said that yesterday—that she did not wish to marry. But surely …

      ‘My brother thought that he would never marry,’ he said. ‘And I doubt that he has ever been happier than he is now.’

      She did look up at that. ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘Tell me about your sister-in-law. She is … expecting a baby, is she not?’

      He heard the faint hesitation and ached. Was that something she had wanted, and thought now was for ever lost to her? Nevertheless, she had changed the subject, and he could only respect that. So he made his countermove, and told her a little about Max and Verity, that the baby was nearly due, and that Max was terrified. Far more so than Verity herself.

      Thea did not look up again, but surveyed the board, apparently concentrating, soft pink lips very slightly pursed. But her hands, resting in her lap, shifted continually, fiddling with her cuffs, turning a small turquoise ring on her little finger.

      He should be concentrating himself, predicting her likely move and its consequences. He knew what he wanted her to do, what nine people out of ten would do at this point. Only it seemed unimportant, compared to the stray curl escaping to tickle her face and make her frown. She pushed it back and his own fingers itched to capture the wisp and tuck it in safely. Or to release a few more of her softly curling tresses to twine about his fingers. He leaned forwards …

      She glanced up, pushing the errant wisp out of her eyes yet again. Their eyes met, his suddenly narrowed, intent; hers wide and startled. Reality reined in his half-formed desire. What in Hades had come over him? He needed to conduct this courtship logically … and playing chess was a very rational and logical thing to do.

      Dazed, he realised that in the space of two hours he’d gone from considering the possibility of amatch to courtship. Thea had loved once, and was disinclined to give her heart again. Would she perhaps consider a marriage based on friendship? Mutual interests and understanding? Would that be enough for her?

      She reached