Regency Rogues: Unlacing The Forbidden: Unlacing Lady Thea / Forbidden Jewel of India

‘No, just terribly muddy. I thought you were under that when it fell.’ She collapsed back onto his chest and hugged as much as she could of him.

‘Mmm,’ Rhys murmured. ‘Much as I appreciate being cuddled, I prefer not to be sinking into the mire at the same time. I seem to be squashing a frog.’

‘Idiot! I thought… I feared…’

‘Don’t you dare cry on me,’ he said mildly. ‘How do you think I felt when I saw you wriggling into that death trap, you madcap creature?’

Thea got to her feet, trying not to tread on him. He was battered enough without squashing what breath remained in him. ‘Well, who else did you think was going to go in?’ she said belligerently to cover her reaction. ‘The passengers were too shocked or too large. Are you hurt?’

Rhys sat up, winced and uncoiled himself from the ditch. ‘Other than feeling as though our esteemed Prince Regent has been sitting on me, and kicking while he was at it, I am perfectly all right.’

Thea repressed the urge to fuss. ‘I’ll see how the Englishman is, then. He had a nasty cut to the head before he joined us in the ditch.’

She found him retrieving his baggage from the piles strewn along the road. ‘Sir? Should you be on your feet?’

He had tied her fichu into a lopsided bandage which gave his pleasant, regular features an alarmingly piratical cast at odds with his severe pallor, and he was moving with great care as though all his joints hurt. Which, she supposed, they did.

‘Ma’am, I thank you for your concern. They tell me there is an inn a mile or so along the road. I will find myself a room there.’

‘At least allow us to carry you that far. Tom!’ She gestured to the coachman who hurried over. ‘Place this gentleman’s luggage up behind the chaise.’

Rhys made his way towards them through the French passengers who were sorting themselves out amidst much weeping and waving of arms. No one appeared seriously injured.

‘My lord, this is the gentleman who supported the other end of the coach. He needs to get to an inn where he can rest.’

‘The lady is too kind, I trust I do not inconvenience you? My name is Giles Benton. I should have a card.’ He dug into his breast pocket and produced one.

‘The Reverend Benton,’ Rhys looked up from his study of the rectangle of pasteboard. ‘I am Palgrave.’

‘My lord. I recognise you, of course, from the House….’

‘Never mind the politics. And call me Denham,’ Rhys said, offering his hand. ‘May I present my cousin, Miss Smith.’ He blandly ignored Thea’s raised eyebrows, opened the door of the chaise for them then swung up on his horse, calling instructions to the postilions.

Now she was closeted with an Englishman, one who was a gentleman and a vicar to boot. He was probably even now working his way mentally through the Peerage and coming to the conclusion that the Earl of Palgrave had no cousins named Smith, certainly not young female ones without a wedding ring on their finger. If his mathematics was any good, he was putting two and two together and coming up with a thoroughly scandalous six.

But what other option did they have but to take him up? They could hardly leave him bleeding by the roadside. For the first time since her flight Thea faced the fact that a scandal would be humiliating, sordid and decidedly unamusing.

Chapter Nine

Thea took a deep breath and willed herself to calm. Panicking would only make her appear self-conscious and that would raise Mr Benton’s suspicions about her scandalous status, even if he had none now.

She cast a harried glance out of the window at Rhys, who at least seemed capable of sitting a horse without collapse, and studied her new companion. ‘You are travelling far, sir?’ That was a safe sort of question and put the focus on him.

‘To the Mediterranean coast.’ He smiled. ‘I have no very clear destination. I am taking advantage of the recent peace to indulge myself with a journey south to the sun before I take up a new position.’

‘A new parish?’

‘No. After I was ordained I realised I was not cut out for the ministry. I desired to put my talents, such as they are, in the service of the reform of society. I have taken a post as secretary to Lord Carstairs.’

‘He has interested himself in the abolition of slavery, has he not?’ It was a cause she had read much about, much to the disapproval of her father, who had interests in the West Indies. ‘It must be a great satisfaction to assist in that endeavour.’

‘Yes, of course, I should have realised you would be knowledgeable on the subject,’ he said, puzzling Thea. But Mr Benton swept on before she could query it. ‘He is also interested in prison reform, and his wife, Lady Carstairs, is active in advancing the education of women. I hope I may make some contribution to all three causes. I was very fortunate that my elder brother, Lord Fulgrove, knows Lord Carstairs well and was able to recommend me to him.’

‘Lord Fulgrove?’ Thea faltered before she could gather her wits.

Mr Benton shifted on his seat. ‘But do I not know you? I thought your face familiar, but I cannot place… I know, I have seen you talking to my sisters Jane and Elspeth in the park.’

Thea stared at him, struggling to find something intelligently evasive to say. ‘I have met them a few times.’ First the risk of scandal, now the danger that word would get back to Papa.

‘I shall make a point of telling them how you aided me,’ Mr Benton said. ‘I write to them almost daily. They will be delighted to know their friend Miss Smith is such a Good Samaritan.’

‘Ah. I, um… We have arrived at the inn. It seems exceedingly shabby.’ She lowered the window as Rhys walked over. ‘I do not like the look of this place. See how dirty the windows are, and the yard is full of rubbish.’

‘Indeed, the merest country drinking house and none too well equipped for travellers by the look of it.’

‘We cannot abandon Mr Benton here.’ The sooner they parted company the better, but she could not allow his health to be jeopardised to conceal her guilty secrets. A blow to the head was potentially very serious, and he had lost a lot of blood, even before his heroic efforts with the diligence. ‘He is travelling south. We can carry him to Lyon and find a doctor to attend to his head.’ She turned to study his pale face. ‘I fear you may require stitches, sir.’

Both men began to speak, but Polly, opening the opposite door to place a small bag on the floor, cut across them both. ‘Here’s the bag with the medical supplies. Mr Hodge thought the gentleman might need a fresh bandage, Lady Althea.’

Mr Benton shot Thea a glance and closed his lips firmly in a gesture that spoke far louder than any words. Rhys rolled his eyes upwards. ‘Devil take it.’

Thea looked from one to the other, her heart sinking. He was a clergyman; he would not condone what he thought to be immorality. ‘May I trust your discretion, Mr Benton?’

‘This is an elopement, I collect?’ he enquired stiffly. ‘Naturally, it is none of my business.’

‘No, we are not eloping!’

‘Perish the thought,’ Rhys added with what Thea felt was unflattering emphasis. ‘I am escorting Lady Althea to our godmother, Lady Hughson, in Venice. We are childhood friends.’

Mr Benton’s poker face softened into a smile. ‘Lady Hughson? I know her well. What a relief! I should have realised nothing untoward was happening after observing your gallant and selfless actions at the scene of the accident. I do apologise! Lady Althea…?’

‘Curtiss,’ she supplied, her conscience giving her a decided pang. They might not be sinning in fact, but her imagination was scandalous enough to condemn her in the eyes of any minister. ‘Because circumstances have led us to travel in a manner which is so open to misunderstanding, I hope you will understand if I ask you not to mention that we met along the way.’

‘But of course,’ Mr Benton assured her. ‘My lips are sealed.’

‘In that case,’ Thea said, ‘I will dress your head with a proper bandage and then we will be on our way to Lyon. Lord Palgrave, would you be so good as to have the sleeping couch put in place for Mr Benton? I am sure he should be lying down.’

‘By no means, Lady Althea,’ he protested. ‘I assure you I will be quite well sitting up—and in any case, I should be travelling with your servants in the coach, should I not? After all, a lady alone in a chaise…’

‘I have been travelling in the chaise with Lord Palgrave for most of this journey,’ Thea said, unwinding the makeshift dressing from his head. ‘I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Besides, I doubt the presence of a clergyman will harm my reputation.’ She peered at the cut. ‘The bleeding has stopped, and I will not risk starting it again by washing your head with the water from this dirty inn. If you will just sit quite still…’

By the time they reached Lyon at seven o’clock that evening Rhys was convinced that he would never get off the horse, let alone walk to his bedchamber. The bruising and strains from holding up the coach had coalesced into one blaze of pain, and his hands, cut and pierced with splinters, were cramped on the reins.

‘Hodge,’ he called as the valet stepped down from the coach, ‘see her ladyship and Mr Benton into the inn. I need to talk to Felling.’

He waited until they had vanished through the impressive front door of the Chapeau Rouge before he called to the coachman, ‘Tom, come and give me a hand, I’m damned if I’m going to fall flat on my face in front of a gaggle of French ostlers.’

It was inelegant and exceedingly painful, but they managed the manoeuvre with a lot of swearing on Rhys’s part. ‘Say nothing to her ladyship or that maid of hers, do you understand?’

‘Yes, my lord. You need some liniment on your back, I reckon. Got just the thing in my baggage.’

‘Horse liniment? Do you want to take the skin off my back, man?’

‘If it’ll do for your thoroughbreds, I reckon it won’t do you much harm, my lord,’ the coachman said. ‘But they’ll be getting a doctor to the other gentleman and he’ll prescribe some fancy French potions for you that’ll set you back a bit of gold, I reckon.’

‘Hot bath is all I need,’ Rhys muttered. It took him the width of the courtyard before he could walk with the appearance of ease, but he managed the stairs and found Althea and Mr Benton in the private salon he had written ahead to reserve.

They were, it seemed, on first-name terms already. ‘The landlord has sent for a doctor and is making up the spare bedchamber in this suite for Giles. Is it not fortunate that they gave us such a spacious one?’ Thea did not turn round as she attempted to press Benton into a chair while she stayed on her feet. ‘Giles, it is foolish to stand on ceremony. You must take care and, really, I am such good friends with your sisters that you may treat me quite as one of them.’

Rhys cast a swift glance at Benton, whose faint air of dizziness seemed to owe at least as much to the effect of being organised by Thea as it did to his head wound. Or perhaps, he thought, narrowing his eyes at the other man, it was more than that. Thea, enchanting a clergyman? Surely not.

‘What are you laughing about?’ Thea demanded, her attention still on her patient. Apparently his huff of amusement had been audible.

‘Just relief at the thought of a hot bath. I’ll see you both at dinner,’ he added, and caught sight of his own grey face in a mirror. Lord, he’d better be out of there before she noticed he was looking like death warmed over.

‘Your chamber is here, my lord.’ Hodge at least had the sense not to exclaim at the sight of him until the door was closed behind them. ‘I’ll send the doctor to you when he arrives.’

‘Certainly not. There is nothing wrong with me that a good soak and basilicum powder will not put to rights. Which is probably more than can be said for that coat,’ he added as Hodge eased him out of it and then held it up to inspect its battered back.

The sting of the hot water had made him hiss between his teeth as he lowered himself into it, but half an hour’s soak had loosened the abused muscles, and he felt rather more human when he climbed out of the tub and wrapped a vast bath sheet around his waist.

Hodge began to dab cautiously at his back with a towel while Rhys hitched one hip on the edge of the table and contemplated his bruised and splinter-stuck hands. ‘I need a needle to get these out, Hodge. Can you find one?’

‘In my baggage next door, my lord. I won’t be a moment.’

The door behind Rhys opened and he added, ‘Tweezers might be a good thing, too.’

‘Rhys Denham! Look at the state of your back!’

‘I can’t, can I?’ he said reasonably, without turning. ‘Thea, you should not be in here. I am not dressed.’ In fact, he was damn near naked. Rhys reached for a towel to toss around his shoulders.

‘Don’t do that,’ Thea said sharply. ‘It needs dressing properly. Why on earth didn’t you say it was this bad?’

‘Hate fuss,’ Rhys muttered. ‘Will you please—?’

‘Hodge, kindly tell the doctor to come in here as soon as he has finished stitching Mr Benton’s head.’

Rhys took a deep breath. Unfortunately, getting the man out of the room was essential before this went any further. ‘Hodge, go and see if you can assist Mr Benton.’ He waited until the door was closed behind the valet before he added, ‘Thea, go away.’

‘You always were dreadful about admitting you were sick or hurt,’ she said, deaf to both orders and propriety. Rhys heard the rustle of her skirts and then a towel was pressed gently over his back. ‘I’ll just get this dry and then you can get half dressed at least before the doctor comes in.’

He should get up and put her outside, but, clad in only a thin towel, Rhys had no confidence in maintaining even a vestige of decency. ‘If I promise to let the doctor see to my back, will you leave?’

‘Of course.’ Thea came round to face him, her eyes sharp as she studied his naked torso. ‘Your front does not appear to be injured.’

Rhys clutched a towel to his chest before she saw his nipples tightening. He did not dare look down to see how effective the towel around his waist was at concealing his sudden arousal. ‘All I need is a light dressing on my back,’ he began, but she reached out and took his hands in hers.

‘Oh, look at these! How could you have held the reins? I will get a needle and some tweezers and take those splinters out while the doctor sees to your back.’ To Rhys’s enormous relief she released him. ‘I’ll leave you in peace to put your pantaloons on and come back when he has finished with Giles.’

‘Thea, has no one told you that a young lady should faint before mentioning a man’s nether garments?’ Rhys demanded as she bustled away. He was not certain whether he was more relieved that she had taken no notice of his near-naked state—let alone the effect she was having on him—or whether he was indignant at being bossed around by her. The temptation to get up and let his draperies fall where they might was considerable. That would stop her ever trying such tricks again.

‘Of course,’ she said with a gurgle of laughter. ‘Oh, poor Rhys, am I embarrassing you?’

‘Shocking me, more like.’ But she had gone.

It was quite obvious that she regarded him in no other light than the friend of her childhood. Grown-up to be sure, but no more to be treated with reserve than his fourteen-year-old self had been.

The only positive aspect to this trusting innocence, he concluded as he reached for his trousers, was that he was alone in the unfortunate physical attraction that being close to her provoked. If she felt the slightest awareness of him as a sexual being she would never be so open and so unselfconscious.

The doctor was ushered in ten minutes later. Monsieur Benton needed only a little rest. He had not even felt it necessary to bleed him. Ah, but monsieur le comte required a dressing on those abrasions and to rest for two or three days.

‘Be damned to that,’ Rhys said in English and was tutted at by Thea, who sat in front of him wielding a darning needle and tweezers to efficient, but painful, effect on his hands.

‘Do listen to reason,’ she scolded, her eyes fixed on what she was doing.

Rhys tried to sit still while the doctor prodded his bruised back and fixed his eyes on her bowed head, the neat centre parting of her hair and the intricate twists that secured it. How long is it? he wondered. If I pull out those pins…

Thea was still lecturing. ‘…or I will tell him to bleed you. Besides, Lyon looks delightful—what is the rush to get south?’ She did not wait for his reply. ‘May we suggest to Giles that he travel with us? I do not think he should travel on the diligence until he is well again, do you?’

Rhys almost told her that his vehicles were neither a public carrier nor a mobile hospital unit, then bit his tongue. ‘You like him?’ he asked warily.

‘Very much. He is intelligent and good company and he was very brave back there on the road. Not as brave as you, of course,’ she finished, matter-of-factly.

‘Thank you.’ She thought him brave? He had acted without considering the dangers because it was obvious what would happen if he did not stop the vehicle’s slide downwards. A flutter of something absurdly like pride surprised him. Popinjay, he reproved himself. A gentleman simply did what was necessary without having to think about it, that was all.

But Benton, who’d had the opportunity to assess the dangers, and who was hurt into the bargain, was obviously a man of courage and resolution. And good birth, even if he is a younger son. An idea, probably absurd, was beginning to form. Thea ought to be married to someone of her own choosing. The man should be someone of principle who would value her for what she was, not for her connections and wealth. The nonsense about wanting to fall in love was just that, nonsense, and she would realise it soon enough once she found someone congenial and eligible she could trust. Someone who would steady her wild starts.

Rhys would give Benton some subtle encouragement. It was, if he said it himself, a brilliant plan. Thea eligibly, if not spectacularly, married, no risk of scandal—Godmama could put it about that Thea and Benton had met when Thea was staying with her in Venice—and the fact that she had travelled there so scandalously would be conveniently hidden.

The doctor finished and Hodge ushered him out. Thea dropped her tweezers on the table and peered at his hands closely. ‘There! That should do perfectly,’ she exclaimed, tipping her head back to study his face. ‘And just what are you looking so smug about, my lord?’

‘Just relief that it is over.’ Rhys tried to turn the smirk into something innocuous. Relief no one was prodding his injuries any longer and relief that, as Thea said, he always had a plan.

Chapter Ten

‘And you will rest for at least two days?’

Rhys gave a heavy sigh. Thea watched him suspiciously. He sounded as though he was reluctantly allowing himself to be persuaded. ‘Two nights, certainly. And you and Benton can explore the city, if he feels well enough. I’ll spend tomorrow lying down,’ Rhys added. ‘I’ll probably go mad with boredom, but it is no doubt sensible.’

That was so unlike Rhys. Perhaps he really had changed with the years, for she would have sworn he would do anything rather than admit to weakness.

‘Giles says his headache is better already and the doctor does not think he has a concussion, so if you do not need us, it will be amusing to explore.’ She reached for a towel and tried to pat his hands dry.

Rhys twitched it out of her grasp. ‘Don’t fuss, Thea. I’m indestructible—you should know that by now.’

And yet you meekly agree to rest? ‘Don’t say that and tempt fate.’ She met his eyes, saw thoughts there she could not decipher and felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘I am sorry I burst in here when you were…had just got out of your bath. I had no wish to put you to the blush.’ Rhys raised one eyebrow and she laughed. ‘I suppose managing that is quite a challenge! But I made you uncomfortable, I know that.’

It had certainly made her uncomfortable. The shock of seeing his elegant, muscled back, and then the realisation of how much those vicious bruises and splits across the skin must hurt, had left her dizzy with a mixture of desire, horror and admiration for Rhys’s stoicism.

Thea got up and walked across to the bed where his shirt was laid ready. She found she was shivering. Perhaps it was delayed shock after the accident, or perhaps the realisation of just how much danger they had been in under that carriage. She let her fingertips trail over the soft linen. Yes, both those things, but most of all, the impact of finding herself alone with Rhys when he was almost naked.

‘You had better put this on. I’ll help you so you do not dislodge the dressings.’ She gathered it up in her hands as fiercely as she gathered her self-control and turned, her expression schooled into the one of slightly harassed practicality she knew he’d recognise.

Rhys still sat on the edge of the table, which brought them almost eye to eye. He bent his head for her to drop the shirt over, then threaded his hands into the sleeves, a little clumsy because of the strapping. For some reason that made her vision blur with sudden tears. I might have lost him.

Thea swallowed and reached to straighten the collar where it had rucked up at the back of his neck. With Rhys so close she could feel the warmth of his skin against her chest, see the laughter lines at the corner of his eyes, paler against his faintly tanned skin. What joys had caused that laughter? And what concerns had etched the faint lines between his brows and at the corners of his lips? Rhys had an entire, adult life she knew nothing of. Her fingers brushed the ends of his hair as she fussed with the collar.

Her composure seemed to unravel as though he had tugged a string, and yet he had not moved or spoken. ‘I was worried about you,’ Thea said abruptly. Before she could think she was clinging to him, her arms tight around his neck, her face buried in his shirtfront. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled into the cloth. ‘But when the diligence collapsed I thought you were still under it.’

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