Page 49 of A Winter Scandal

Thea walked into the corridor outside the nursery and strolled aimlessly along it, glancing into the rooms. Her thoughts skittered about like fireflies, unwilling to stop or coalesce into anything coherent. She wished she had a mirror and wondered if she looked as flushed and hazy as she felt. She glanced down at her dress again and straightened the row of decorative buttons down the center of the short bodice. What was the state of her hair?

She stood for a moment, gazing out the long window at the end of the hallway without really seeing anything. At the sound of a heel scraping on the floor, she turned and saw that Gabriel was walking toward her. His face was still a trifle flushed, but aside from that and a softness to his mouth, he looked much as he always did. She could only hope that she did, as well, but she rather suspected that her face revealed much more than his. Of course, he was more experienced at this sort of thing.

Thea was surprised at the flash of jealousy that stabbed her when she considered Gabriel’s previous dalliances. It was really none of her business; the man’s previous life had nothing to do with her. But she could not help but feel a burning resentment at the thought of him sneaking into and out of other rooms in other houses with beautiful, sophisticated women on his arm.

Why, she thought, her heart squeezing in her chest, was he dallying with her? He could have almost any woman in the kingdom; it was absurd that he would be interested in a plain spinster in a little village. The answer, of course, was simply that she happened to be there. Chesley offered few women to choose from—only Damaris would qualify as a sophisticated beauty of the sort Morecombe was accustomed to. Damaris, she knew, must appeal to him more, but he scarcely knew her. It was Thea with whom he had been thrown together.

That was the only reason. Proximity. Convenience. He was a virile male who enjoyed women, and if no suitable lady was around, Gabriel would dally with one less suitable … in short, herself. To think anything else would be vain and foolish. Thea prided herself on being neither of those things.

So she pushed aside the spurt of jealousy and, fixing a pleasant smile on her face, went forward to meet him. As soon as he offered her his arm and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, she felt the same tingling tendril of heat she experienced whenever she touched him, and it was difficult to keep at bay the memories of what had happened between them only minutes before.

As luck would have it, as they stepped back through the door into the main bedroom wing of the house, they met Ian and his wife walking out of their room. Emily’s eyes widened as she looked at Gabriel and Thea, and Thea felt a telltale blush spreading up her throat into her face. It was inappropriate, even shocking, she knew, for a female visitor to be roaming about upstairs alone with a man. That she had just been engaged in precisely the sort of activity that such social restrictions were designed to thwart only increased Thea’s feeling of awkwardness.

“Gabriel.” Ian nodded at Morecombe, his gaze sliding curiously over to Thea. “Cousin Althea.”

“Miss Bainbridge and I have been searching for the nursery. It seems there is one, to my surprise.”

“Nursery?” Emily repeated blankly. “Oh—for the, ah, child downstairs?” Courtesy obviously kept her from inquiring any further, but Thea could see the questions forming in the other woman’s eyes.

“I see.” The curiosity was missing from Ian’s eyes, but his neutral voice held no approval. “Well, then …”

“I am sorry,” Thea said with a brittle smile. “But I am afraid I must be going now. Mrs. Howard and I have tarried far too long. It was nice meeting you, Lady Wofford. Thank you for showing me the nursery, Lord Morecombe.” She gave them a brisk general nod and started toward the stairs.

“Pray, allow me to see you out.” Gabriel caught up with Thea before she reached the staircase, and they walked together down the steps, though Thea was careful not to take his arm again or even look at him.

She managed not to look directly into his face until he was handing her up into the carriage after Damaris, but when she did look up then into his dark, fathomless eyes, her heart did a lazy roll within her chest and she involuntarily clutched his hand harder. The feelings she had successfully been repressing for the past few minutes rushed back in on her, and she was once again breathless and warm, her entire being so aware of him that she could scarcely focus on anything else.

Thea found herself stammering her good-byes, and she eagerly took the wriggling Matthew, whom Sir Myles handed up to her, and bent her head to fuss over him, to avoid meeting Gabriel’s eyes again. The baby was not happy, for it was past his feeding time, but Thea was frankly grateful for his whining and restlessness, as it afforded little chance for conversation all the way back to Damaris’s house. Thea suspected that her friend’s sharp eyes had missed nothing, but Damaris made no comment and asked no questions.

When they reached town, Damaris directed her coachman to drive Thea and the baby home first, though it was out of the way, so Thea could get Matthew inside to eat before his cranky fussing turned into full-scale wails. Thea handed the baby over to Lolly to feed, then hurried into the entry to remove her bonnet and cloak.

Daniel popped his head out of his study down the hall. “Thea! There you are.” He came toward her, frowning. “Where have you been? Was that Mrs. Howard’s carriage?”

“Yes. I told you I was going to call on her this morning.”

“I did not expect you to be gone all day,” her brother retorted rather plaintively. “Mrs. Stedman was here about the Ladies’ Guild tea in January, and I hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was dropping by today.”

“Yes, well, I would have had Mrs. Brewster tell her I was not here, but unfortunately, I was walking down the stairs when she came in, and she saw me.” He shook his head at the thought of his bad luck.

Thea smiled. “I will call on her and find out what she wanted.”

But her brother was not through with his litany of grievance. “Then Mrs. Cliffe dropped by just as Mrs. Stedman was leaving, so I could not help but talk to her, as well. She was all up in the boughs over something about this Nativity scene, and I had the devil’s own time trying to calm her down. She kept asking me questions, and when I told her that you had gone to call on Mrs. Howard, she told me she had just been at Mrs. Howard’s and Mrs. Howard was not there. I think she believed I was fibbing her.”

“That is too bad,” Thea commiserated. “Mrs. Howard and I went to pay a call on Cousin Ian and Lord Morecombe at the Priory.”

“Cousin Ian? Mercy sakes, why did you go to see him? Really, Thea, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to spend so much time with Lord Morecombe. It doesn’t look good, a single woman like yourself jaunting all over the countryside with a known rake like Morecombe. A woman’s reputation is a precious thing; it is easily damaged and almost impossible to repair once it is ruined.”

“It is hardly like you to sound so … so pious. I am scarcely jaunting about the countryside. I have simply helped Gabriel look for Matthew’s mother.”

“Matthew? Who is Matthew?” Daniel asked crossly.

“The baby who was left in the church. Daniel, really …”

Her brother scowled. “That baby. That’s another thing. I don’t understand why you are fussing over that child. The foundling home is the place for him, not the vicarage. It’s bad enough that you are spending time with Lord Morecombe—and, really, Thea, you should not call him by his given name, you know; it simply does not look right—but the fact that the two of you are carrying this baby about only makes it that much worse. People have begun to talk. I have already heard the whispers—why is Morecombe always hanging about here and where did the baby come from? There have been hints that perhaps the baby itself is the connection between the two of you.” He looked at her significantly.

“Of course it’s the connection between us,” Thea began reasonably, then stopped, staring, as she caught the implication of his words. “Wait a moment. Do you mean—are you saying that people are implying that Matthew is mine?” Her voice slid upward as it grew in volume. “That I am his mother and Lord Morecombe is his father?”