The Outrageous Debutante

Nicholas returned to Faringdon House in a thoroughly bad mood. He was furious with Beatrice. Even after he had warned her off, his aunt had produced a beautiful débutante—he could not deny her lovely face and figure—whom she considered suitable. Suitable? She had no idea! He was also furious with himself for taking out his ill temper on the girl. He might have kept the semblance of good manners, but his comments had been unwarrantable. And he was equally furious with Theodora Wooton-Devereux, whose presence in his arms had left a lasting and most uncomfortable impression on him. He resigned himself to an uneasy night.

Theodora returned to Upper Brook Street equally angry and confused, despite the success of her first public occasion in London. How dare he treat her so! She did not deserve his damning opinions of her or his icy set-downs. And why should he react quite so violently against her? Was he so dull and hidebound that he should condemn her for one social solecism? Well—she did not care! But she determined as she removed the pearl drops from her ears that she would get the better of Lord Nicholas Faringdon!

Chapter Four

Since both Lord Nicholas Faringdon and Miss Theodora WootonDevereux moved in the first circles in London society, it was to be expected that their paths would cross with frequency. And they did. If they had not done so by accident, they would certainly have done so by design. For both Lady Beatrice and the Countess of Painscastle considered Theodora to be a most suitable and enlivening match for their uncooperative relative, and Nicholas an equally desirable husband for so delectable a débutante. The opinion of neither lady nor gentleman was sought.

So they came quite naturally within each other’s orbit at the social events of the Season, whether it be alfresco breakfasts, riverboat parties on the Thames or the more conventional soirées and balls. Unfortunately for those most interested in the match, who watched the pair with keen eyes, it appeared that there would be little chance of his lordship fixing his interest with the lady. For there was a decided edge to their meetings from the very beginning.

‘Lord Nicholas.’ Theodora curtsied and smiled politely upon meeting his lordship as she descended the steps from the Painscastle Town House in Grosvenor Square, closely followed by Judith, two days after Lady Aston’s drum. ‘I had thought you might have returned to the country.’

‘My estate will survive a day or two without my presence.’ He bowed his head unsmilingly.

‘I expect it will.’ She unfurled her parasol with graceful expertise and only mild interest. ‘I understand that the land belongs to your nephew?’

‘Yes. He is the Marquis of Burford.’

‘Tom is hardly more than a baby and lives in New York.’ Judith added the explanation, struck by the unexpectedly stark confrontation.

‘And you administer it, my lord.’

‘I do.’

‘I see. A worthwhile occupation, I expect.’

Lord Nicholas inclined his head. Now, why did he get the impression that she disapproved, that she had judged him as some variety of noxious parasite to live off the wealth and achievement of others? It ruffled him more than he cared to admit. But he strove with perfect success to preserve a courteous and faintly amused expression.

‘Does it not meet with your liking, madam?’

‘I am sure that it is no concern of mine, my lord, how you choose to live your life.’

‘Very true. It is not.’

Accepting the put-down with raised brows, Miss Wooton-Devereux persisted. Of course he was ruffled. She would teach him to look at her with such arrogant superiority! ‘I would have thought a man would want to develop his own land, my lord. Not that of another, however close the relationship with the owner.’

His voice became positively glacial, his eyes a distinct quality of arctic grey. ‘It is a responsibility to my family, and so it is my duty. I am trustee for the estate’s well-being.’ So, she would have the temerity to hold his lifestyle up for criticism, would she? And why was he actually explaining his views to the woman …?

‘Of course.’ Theodora simply angled her head and smiled.

Nicholas felt the muscles in his jaw clench. Was she deliberately baiting him? Surely she was!

Judith leapt into the breach. ‘You should know, Theodora, that Nicholas has his own estate at Aymestry Manor.’

‘Ah.’

‘He breeds horses.’

‘How interesting.’

And although Theodora would have dearly loved to have entered into a discussion of the rival merits of English thoroughbreds against Arab bloodlines, she restrained herself. She would not admit to any similarity of interest with his lordship.

Damn her! Nicholas watched as the two ladies made their way out of the Square. Why should it matter what Miss Wooton-Devereux thought of him?

But it did.

And became increasingly important as the days passed. Although he would have been the first to deny it, Nicholas could not help but be aware of the lady. Not that he approved of her to any degree! Her behaviour was always within the bounds of acceptance—yet not the demure and decorous demeanour to be expected of a débutante. Her appearance was noticeably unconventional with her short hair and striking gowns. She flirted outrageously, showing particular skill in the use of her fan and those miraculously long and thick eyelashes. Not that he had noticed them, of course! She was outspoken to a fault on all manner of subjects, from the politics of the day to the unfortunately corpulent and badly dressed figure presented by the Prince Regent.

When she danced with the highly eligible and extremely rich Earl of Moreton, her mother’s chosen favourite in her plan to find a wealthy, titled husband for her daughter, Nicholas could do nothing but turn his back and invite another lady to partner him. He would not give her the pleasure of seeing him watch her circle the ballroom, however graceful and elegant she might be. He would not. And when his aunt once more invited him to take dear Thea into supper, or partner her in a country dance, he would bow and comply with firm composure as if it were a matter of no possible consequence to take that long-fingered hand in his—or else he would discover an instant excuse for his attendance elsewhere. But he would not single the lady out. He would not give the lady or Lady Beatrice the opportunity to gloat!

But if that were so, why was he still in town? Nicholas refused to consider the implication of such perverse behaviour.

Meanwhile, Thea refused to notice or to be disappointed when his lordship led another pretty débutante into a country dance set. Or failed to put in an appearance at Almack’s when she had chosen to wear a particularly flattering gown of emerald silk overlaid with silver-grey lace. Instead, she took every opportunity to be deliberately provocative—a task that she found surprisingly easy. Quite as effortless as Lord Nicholas in taking her to task for her somewhat slighting remark on the overbearing tactics of the Duke of Wellington in the government of the day.

‘Is that your own opinion, madam? Or that of Sir Hector?’ Unable to ignore her in so small a gathering, Nicholas handed her a glass of champagne at Lady Beatrice’s small soirée, his expression one of distinct disapproval.

‘My own, of course.’ Thea sipped the golden bubbles with a little smile.

‘I did not realise that your interests stretched to politics, Miss Wooton-Devereux.’

‘And should they not?’

‘It is not always to be expected in a débutante.’

‘It is important to be well informed, I believe.’

Lord Nicholas merely observed her without reply, one brow lifted a fraction of an inch.

Well! She could not allow so negative and patronising a response go unanswered!

‘Can it be that you are criticising my upbringing and education, my lord?’ Thea’s brows rose in delicate arcs. She watched him over the rim of her glass.

‘I would not be so bold, ma’am.’

‘My upbringing has been impeccable,’ the lady informed him, ‘according to the advanced ideas of the philosopher Rousseau. And as advocated by Maria Edgeworth, no less, in her Practical Education.’

‘I can well believe it.’

‘It is essential,’ continued the lady, ‘that every child and thus every adult be treated as an individual to develop his or her innate talents and abilities.’

‘Most estimable, to be sure.’

‘Thus I would consider it necessary that every intelligent woman be aware of the policies of our government and the political figures who influence them. Which makes me free to be critical if I find the Duke’s approach not to my taste.’

‘As I would agree.’ Nicholas smiled with all the friendliness of a kestrel eyeing a tasty mouse. ‘But even Rousseau considered the opinions of the female sex to be far inferior to those of the male.’ He raised his glass in a little toast and drank from it. ‘I am certain that, educated as you are, you see the force of my argument.’

‘No! I do not, my lord!’ Thea felt a warmth of colour touch her cheek at his underhand tactics.

‘Now, why did I think that would be your answer?’

Which left Theodora without a parting shot.

And gave Lord Nicholas a degree of satisfaction.

But within the third week of their distinctly uneasy acquaintance, there was a particular development in the nature of their relationship, a strange little event that gave both lady and gentleman much to consider. As Nicholas drove his curricle through the city, having visited his bank, he spied a familiar female figure. There, standing on the pavement, on the corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, was a lady whom he could not possibly mistake. She held her reticule, gloves and parasol in one hand, and a guide book, compiled for those travellers who might wish to enjoy the sights of London, open in the other. She was clearly oblivious to the small crowd of urchins and undesirables who had gathered, attracted by her obvious wealth and her unaccompanied state.

He drew in his horses beside her, a heavy frown apparent.

She looked up, a delightful picture in a gauze and satin straw bonnet, but her words did not hold the same charm.

‘Do not say anything, my lord!’

So he obligingly did not, but made no attempt to hide his disapproval of her unchaperoned situation in the City as he held his matched chestnuts under firm control. What was she thinking! The fact that her presence here had caused him a ripple of concern for her safety was rapidly discarded.

‘I am lost,’ Thea snapped. Of all people, why did it have to be Lord Nicholas Faringdon to drive past, to look down his arrogant—if beautiful—nose at her as if she were a beetle in his path? ‘I should not be here—and certainly not unchaperoned. I should have a maid with me. I should not be drawing attention to myself. Anything else, my lord?’

She had read him to perfection. He suppressed any sign of wry amusement, so his reply was cold and curt.

‘I cannot think of anything at the moment. You appear to have covered every aspect of this unfortunate situation.’

He dismounted, handing the reins to the groom, his expression not pleasant at the inconvenience. ‘I think I should return you to your family, ma’am.’

‘Why should you? I would much rather go to St Paul’s.’

Without a word he held out his hand and, when she complied—she could hardly do other in this busy street—helped her up into the curricle.

‘And why are

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