Myles was holding out a letter. ‘A messenger brought this. From Blakeney, sir. His lordship’s writing—’
Richard had shoved his chair back, leapt to his feet and was breaking the seal with fumbling fingers before Myles had finished speaking. Thea stared, dumbfounded. He looked … he looked frightened, his eyes dark in a white face, his mouth a hard, set line as he scanned the letter. Then—
‘YES!’
Thea’s tea sloshed into the saucer as Richard’s howl of triumphant delight rent the air. Then, the letter floating to the table, Richard seized Myles and practically waltzed around the room, his face alive and brimming with joy.
‘Mr Richard! What is it?’
With which breathless question Thea heartily concurred.
‘A boy, Myles! It’s a boy! I’m an uncle. And her ladyship is perfectly well! She’s come through safely, thank God!’
Her heart contracted. His sister-in-law, Lady Blakehurst, had come safely through the birth of her child. A small hidden corner of her soul echoed his words: Thank God.
She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the memories pouring through her. They came anyway, relentless, raking her painfully. She forced them away, concentrating on the unknown countess, Richard’s sister-in-law, Verity. What was it like to hold your child at the end, to see it after the months of waiting, of feeling it kick and wriggle inside? To rejoice in the birth of your child, rather than …
Strong, lean hands plucked her from her nightmare and out of her seat.
‘Thea! Did you hear? I’m an uncle!’ He whirled her around, laughing, alight with joy. His strength startled her; he seemed to hold her effortlessly, spinning her around so that her feet left the floor. She clutched at his shoulders, feeling hard muscles surge under the superfine of his coat, wildly aware of his hands on her waist, spanning her ribcage.
Her heart pounded, her mouth dried and his eyes laughed into hers as he set her down. ‘I’m an uncle. And—’ he cleared his throat ‘—about to be a godfather.’
He still had his hands on her waist, not gripping now, just resting there, as though … as though they belonged there. Intimate. Possessive.
‘That’s … that’s wonderful, Richard,’ she faltered, gazing up at him. He was close, so close. Sensation splintered through her, leaving her dizzy and breathless.
The laughter faded from his eyes as he stared back at her, stared as though he saw her for the first time, his mouth suddenly hard. His hands tightened slightly at her waist, fingers shifting in a way that sent heat flying through her. It reached her cheeks in a fiery blush as she realised the intimacy of his hold, that her breasts were nearly brushing against him. That they ached. And then, to her utter shock, that she wanted to lean forward, to press the ache against him. That did frighten her.
Richard knew instantly; saw the moment her eyes widened, heard the sudden startled breath as she realised how close they were.
He forced his fingers to relax, his hands to drop to his sides. But his body remained taut with the tension that had exploded when he felt the softness of her body in his hands, saw the delicate flush on her cheeks as he swung her around. Hell! He wasn’t supposed to feel like this!
Like what?
As though he wanted to take her back into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless, until her mouth and body melted under his, and …
Stop right there! This was insane. Surely he couldn’t possibly be standing here—in his godmother’s breakfast parlour, no less!—struggling against the urge to kiss Thea Winslow senseless? After she had categorically refused his offer of marriage the previous day? Apparently he was. And no matter what honour, not to mention common sense, thought of the idea, his body was making its opinion strongly felt. Visible too. He certainly didn’t need to look and he hoped to heaven that Thea wouldn’t.
She was still standing there, her hands resting on his chest. Why the hell wasn’t she using them to push him away? And why was she looking up at him like that, with that wide-eyed look of disbelief, when she should have dealt him a ringing slap and kicked him in the shins?
He could, of course, step back himself. He did so, feeling as though part of him had been ripped away to leave weeping raw flesh. As if his retreat had broken a spell, Thea backed up too, her face scarlet.
And just in time.
Almeria walked in, a letter in her hand.
‘Richard! Have you heard? Did Max write to you—oh!’ She saw the letter on the table. ‘You know already.’
Richard smiled. ‘Yes. Wonderful news, is it not?’
Almeria cleared her throat. ‘Naturally one must be glad that Max’s wife has come through the ordeal, and write a letter of congratulations,’ she said stiffly. ‘Very obliging of Max to inform me.’ She sniffed. ‘If it can be called a letter! I could scarcely read it!’
Richard laughed. ‘Yes, mine is a trifle incoherent as well. I’m not sure if it mentions the baby’s name. If it doesn’t no doubt he’ll tell me when I see him.’
‘See him? Will you be going to Blakeney?’ asked Almeria.
He hesitated. He didn’t want to leave town right now, but—
‘You should go, Richard,’ said Thea gently.
Almeria frowned. ‘Of course you will have to go down, Richard. Whatever his failings …’ she sniffed ‘ … Blakehurst is your brother. I am sure that Dorothea and I can manage for a day or two.’ She turned to Thea. ‘I thought to visit Bond Street this morning, my dear, and would like you to accompany me.’
‘Of course, ma’am, if you wish it,’ said Thea.
Refolding her letter, Lady Arnsworth tucked it away in a pocket.
‘Almeria, Max mentions in his letter that he has asked you to stand as godmother to the baby,’ said Richard.
Lady Arnsworth flushed. ‘Yes, his letter to me mentions something of the sort, but of course I cannot accept. Impossible to leave town at the moment with Dorothea to chaperon. It would be most remiss of me. No, I am afraid it is not to be thought of. I shall write to Blakehurst presently and inform him. Although I doubt that he can really want me to attend!’
Turning to Thea, she said, ‘I shall be ready to go out in half an hour, dear.’ And sailed from the room, leaving a thunderous silence behind her. It held for a moment and then detonated as Richard said several things that Thea had never heard before. Given the shaking fury in his voice, she rather thought she ought to be blushing.
‘Damn it!’ he went on, slightly more moderately. ‘She knows quite well what the gossip will be like if she doesn’t attend the christening!’
‘But why should there be gossip?’
Richard sighed. ‘Because, to put it mildly, there was quite a bit of scandal attached to Max’s marriage one way or another. The most popular version was that Verity trapped him. Almeria has even openly wondered if the child is his.’ His jaw seemed to turn into solid stone.
‘But—’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said shortly. ‘It is. Verity … well, you’ll understand when you meet her.’ His face softened. ‘She is the best thing that could possibly have happened to Max. And she suffered enough with her own family. Max will never overlook a slight to her from Almeria.’
‘I’m sorry—’
He stared. ‘Why should you apologise? Oh. That nonsense about being your chaperon? No. That was an excuse so that I could not rip up at her. Nothing to do with you.’
Конец