Thomasina Page 11

  Sulking from the salon, feeling betrayed and deserted by all, she wondered if only Lord George saw matters in their true light. Holding the comfort of his words, she dwelled upon him long after she reached her room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Longeton’s announcement caused Thomasina’s circumstances to be quite altered. Awakening to a serving girl awaiting to give her hot cocoa and an abigail assigned to attend her, she recalled incidents her mother had spoken of about her life at Buckley House. In the past Thomasina had been a spectator or provider of such services. She allowed herself a passive enjoyment of this change in her life.

  Defiance flared briefly when she found her things had been removed to a far grander room—actually a suite of rooms. She did not feel it honest to accept such gratuities when she had no intention of marrying the Marquess. However, freedom from Dianna’s self-pitying, silent, accusing presence persuaded her not to object.

  It greatly relieved Thomasina that Longeton did not press her. That, ever the gentleman, he allowed her to come and go as she pleased during the various activities.

  They exchanged words during meals or when the group of young people walked or rode, but never did he go beyond generalities. In all things he as ever solicitous her in words and actions. All this only served to heighten Thomasina’s turmoil; increase her indecision. Further destracting was her growing concern for Dianna.

  Her cousin refused to speak more than social amenities. She would not listen to anything concerning Mathew or Sternbye. Realizing Dianna had been bombarded with a new series of tirades from her mother, Thomasina ached to comfort and reassure her. To tell her that Mathew did care, but Dianna cut her off coldly whenever she broached the subject.

  Mathew, too, found himself instantly and cruelly snubbed in his attempts to speak with her. The growing tension showed in the heightened pitch of her voice, a false gaiety, and abrupt actions.

  Sensing Dianna was nearing the point where she would lose control—do or say something foolish, or worse—Thomasina hovered in the background. She constantly watched her; concern for her cousin overriding her own anxieties for the time being.

  * * * *

  “Mathew, have you seen Dianna?” Thomasina asked the Viscount when she encountered him as she wove a path through the many people assembled for the ball Thursday evening.

  “I thought I saw Sir Peter leading her out to the terrace. It is frightfully warm in here with this crush of people. Shall I help you find her?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead ke.

  “That is not necessary. But do your best to watch Lord Sternbye. He makes me very uneasy. I feel something unfortuante might occur this night.”

  “You should have let me ‘manage’ him two nights past,” Mathew answered darkly. “But you worry overly much. He has kept from Dianna. I am certain Lady Augusta will keep her on a short rein.”

  “Why, are you not concerned?” Thomasina questioned. “Have your feelings for Dianna altered?”

  “Of course not, but nothing is to be gained from any action on my part. You have seen how she smiles at that Sternbye fellow and cuts me. After we return home and she has had time to think—then I shall speak with her.”

  Frowning at the wisdom of his words, Thomasina was about to answer when Lord John demanded she dance with him.

  While she danced with him, then Sir Peter, and other friends of the Marquess, she caught glimpses of Lord George and Dianna—always with others for partners—but her uneasiness would not be set aside.

  “I have been ordered to fetch you,” Sir Peter bowed before Thomasina as Lord Claymore lead her from the dance.

  With a smile at the older gentleman, she excused herself and gladly took Sir Peter’s arm. “How kind of you to rescue me, sir,” she said with relief. “In truth my feet can take little more.”

  “Have you enjoyed the evening?”

  “The evening? Yes. The entire week has been a delight.”

  “Thank you, Peter,” a voice intruded.

  “Thomasina, I thought you might have need of this,” the tall figure added, holding a glass of champagne out to her.

  Caught off guard, Thomasina flashed a warm smile of gratitude at Brutus. Their eyes caught and held.

  “Ah, well, yes,” Sir Peter stumbled verbally as he watched the pair. “I shall excuse myself then, unless I can be of service?”

  They heard him not. Chuckling, he walked away.

  “Would you like to take a turn on the terrace?” the Marquess spoke at last. “The evening is very warm and I would not want you to become overheated. Grandmother has been thrilled at the turnout—a ‘true crush’ as she would say.”

  Allowing him to lead the way, Thomasina’s heart bade her to forget the past—to judge her love on what she saw and felt now, in the present. Perhaps it was a similar name to Longeton that had been said and her mother had misunderstood it, she thought, grasping for any justification to follow her heart.

  The odour of liquor intruded. A large man stumbled near them and lunged at Thomasina’s arm to keep from falling.

  Longeton in turn released her hand and grabbed the fellow.

  “Why, ish Longeton,” the man slurred and jerked away. “You mush give me ‘tunity to rega’n muh loses,” he demanded drunkenly. “Ish only fair.”

  A jerk of the Marquess’ hand brought two footmen. Without a word he turned the man over to them. “See he does not return,” he commanded crisply and turned back to Thomasina.

  The look of abhorrence on her face struck him as no physical blow had ever done. Taking her hand, he found it cold and unresponsive to his touch as he led her to the edge of the terrace.

  “That man,” she choked out, “who was he?”

  “I know him not. My grandmother did the inviting. He probably took me for my brother.

  “Why do you suddenly act as if I have done some heinous deed? The footmen will only prevent him from being a nuisance to the other guests.”

  “And when,” Thomasina said through a growing haze as she forced herself to look at him, “will you give him a chance to recover his losses? He must surely have something left you can strip him of.”

  “Tommi, what are you saying?” Longeton entreated, baffled by her words and their vehemence.

  “A marriage between us can never be,” she flung at him. “Have you not caused me enough grief? Why do you persist in this travesty?” Tears spilled in great drops from her eyes.

  “I do not understand,” Longeton said, his voice heavy with anguish. “Tommi, please.” He reached for her.

  “Do not touch me,” Thomasina said, barely above a whisper. “Leave me—now—I beg you.”

  Longeton could not bear the look on Thomasina’s face knowing he was powerless to comfort her. With an oath, he strode away.

  Several people called to Brutus in vain as he made his way across the crowded ballroom. Only solid flesh and bone, as it jarred against his, halted him.

  “Lord Longeton, I am sorry,” Viscount Sherrad apologized. “Had my eye on Sternbye and did not see you.”

  “Why would you watch Sternbye?” the Marquess demanded. He cocked his head suspiciously. “Does it concern Thomasina?”

  “I suppose one could say it does,” Mathew answered nervously, wondering what to tell Longeton of the affair.

  Sensing his reluctance, Longeton stared at Sherrad and reached for a decision. “Thomasina is on the western edge of the terrace. Something has upset her. Will you see to her for me?” he asked at last. “Tell her she may retire to her rooms if she wishes. I will make her excuses if she does not return.”

  “As you wish, Lord Longeton,” Mathew answered in puzzlement.

  Grim-faced, Longeton acknowledged his response.

  * * * *

  It took Mathew some time to find Thomasina. She had left the terrace for the solitude of a bench in the garden. Sitting down beside her, he said nothing; simply reached out to take her hand. After several moments, Thomasina returned his grip.

  “L
ongeton said he would make apologies for you if you did not wish to return to the ball.”

  Without a glance at him, she nodded.

  “You care to speak about it?”

  “Maybe ... later.” Thomasina rose, a haunted look reflected in her face by the moonlight.

  “Tommi—” Mathew began.

  Shaking her head, Thomasina stepped away.

  Quickly he stopped her. “I do not know what is wrong between the two of you that Longeton should need to send me to comfort you, but I have no doubt that you love him. You should realize how much Longeton must love you. Let nothing stand in your way, Tommi.” He lifted her chin forcing her to look at him.

  “Are not Dianna and I a sad enough example?” He paused. “You will think on it?”

  Thomasina nodded.

  On impulse, Mathew kissed her on the cheek.

  “Thank you—for caring about my welfare,” she said with a quavering smile. She return the kiss, then she took his arm and walked with him back towards the terrace.

  “See,” Lord Sternbye whispered, “it is as I said.”

  Dianna’s last hope had been vanquished by Mathew’s appearance at Thomasina’s side. Until that moment she had clung to the belief that what Thomasina said was true. Now there remained no hope. She would be a lonely spinster as her mother had said.

  “My dearest Miss Buckley,” Sternbye said as he lead her from the shrubbery that concealed them to a spot deeper in the shadows of the garden. “Sit with me for a time. Just to gaze upon your countenance is pure delight.”

  The distance they were from the terrace, the total privacy of the spot, and Lord Sternbye’s air of intimacy disturbed Dianna. “Only for a moment, my lord. You know my mother will be most displeased by my absence.”

  “Oh, ‘tis not fair you should be so persecuted,” he told her passionately.

  Startled, Dianna drew away from him.

  “I have alarmed you, forgive me,” he said in more soothing tones. “Do not you have the same yearning to be free of domination just as I do? I know what it is, for my father is much the same as your mother.”

  “My lord—”

  “Have I said too much? Will you discard my affection?” he asked, turning from her despondently.

  “My lord, I did not know ... that you ... suffered a like fate. I could never think less of you for that.”

  Swinging about, he clasped her hand and kissed it several times. “Miss Buckley,” he said, staring deeply into her widening eyes, “do I dare to suggest a plan that would free us both?”

  Mesmerized, Dianna said nothing.

  “If you could but agree to my plan, never again would your mother be able to reprimand you.” Sternbye paused to let her consider that thought. And I would be satisfying at least part of my father’s demands, he continued to himself.

  “More importantly,” he went on hurriedly, “I would be united to the one I love.”

  “United? Love?” Dianna breathed.

  “Yes, my sweet. The way has been prepared. Say you will be my wife?”

  “Mother would never agree...”

  “Come with me and you would never have to think about your mother agreeing or disagreeing ever again! Race with me to Gretna Green! Once we are married, what objection could she make?” he appealed. “An estate will be mine upon my father’s death and my family is very old.”

  All the pain, hurt, embarrassment, and humiliation of the past weeks passed before Dianna. No one had consoled her. Thomasina had lied. Lord George had been the only one consistently kind, she told herself. Certainly he must care for me. Would not he be better than never having anyone care?

  “Say you will come with me,” Lord George pleaded. “I have a small valise secreted near here. You can slip to your room and pack what few things you need for the journey.

  “Bring what jewels and monies you have. We will purchase what we need as we travel. When the guests begin taking their leave meet me here. I have a carriage waiting not far beyond. We will have travelled a far distance by morn. They shall not know what has happened when you are found missing. By the time they learn what has taken place, we shall be safely wed,” he exclaimed.

  “What can they do but welcome us happily upon our return? Lord and Lady Sternbye—does that not have a grand ring? Come, let us show them all—say you will wed me,” he cajoled.

  His eagerness ended Diana’s feeble debate. “Yes, I will.”

  “Keep in mind that we shall soon be on our way—free of reprimands forever,” Lord George added with even more spirit to bolster her, ere she weaken in the resolve. “In an hour we shall be winging our way to Scotland!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  A fitful sleep had finally overtaken Thomasina. Dreams marched to and fro as she tossed and turned until a particularly vivid one startled her to wakefulness.

  “I didn’t think you would ever wake, Tommi,” a voice fumed

  In the flickering candlelight, Thomasina saw a small form. Her vision adjusting, she recognized it. “Parker, what are you doing here?” she asked, shaking her head to clear it of sleep’s fine web.

  “You must come with me, Tommi. Something has happened to Dianna. She is gone!”

  “Gone? What do you mean?”

  “I was awakened by the sounds of the carriages as the last guests departed. Dianna had promised to bring some champagne to her room for me to sip, so I slipped into it to await her. I waited ever so long. I even fell asleep waiting. When I woke up she was still not there and no one was stirring. The house is dark.”

  “Parker, I have had enough of your pranks,” Thomasina scolded the boy. “Return to your room before you awake others.”

  “It is the truth, Tommi. Please—come look,” Parker implored, tugging at her hand.

  “Oh, all right, if only to prevent you from disturbing others. But I will turn you over my knee if this is another one of your antics,” she warned him as she rose and pulled her dressing gown over her long nightdress. “Go quietly, now—we do not want to awaken anyone.”

  Their steps creaked loudly to their ears and the meagre light of the single candle seemed a torch in Thomasina’s hand that all should see. She shut the door of Dianna’s room behind them with relief, only to have it replaced with dread as the candlelight revealed an untouched bed. The wardrobe’s doors stood open with articles of clothing strewn about.

  Thomasina’s mind worked frantically. This could mean only one thing. “Parker, you return to your room and tell no one what you have seen or that you spoke to me. They probably will not think to ask you anything, so do not offer what you know.”

  “Where is she, Tommi? What are you going to do?” the boy asked, disliking the idea that he was to be excluded. “Has she run away at last?”

  “I do not know,” Thomasina answered, not daring to tell Parker what she believed. “Do as I say or you shall be in further trouble with your mother. I shall tell you all I learn at the first opportunity.”

  “Will you give your word that you will?”

  “My word of honour. Now go off to bed—quietly.” She lit a candle at Dianna’s bedside. “Take your candle and be careful,” Thomasina admonished, seeing him to the door. Closing it behind her, her mind raced over the possibilities open to her.

  Mathew could be awakened, but that would do little good; he had travelled with his parents and had no carriage of his own they could use. Only Longeton could arrange for a coach and four with no questions asked and with a minimum of people knowing of it.

  Did she dare ask him?

  Yes, she decided. He desired marriage and till now she had refused. In return for his help in finding Dianna she would agree to it; at least then the action would not be in vain.

  He could laugh in your face, her subconscious warned her.

  Acknowledging that fact, she still felt it necessary to make the attempt. I am partly responsible that she has done this, Thomasina reasoned with herself. If I had not agreed to Mathew’s scheme nor left the ball early this
eve, she would not have bolted with Sternbye.

  The thought of that pompous coxcomb decided her. Action was necessary now. She had to save Dianna from a life with that false fop.

  Calm. Remain calm, she cautioned. First I must find the Marquess.

  The thought daunted for she had never been in a man’s bedroom other than the Baron’s. By picturing her aunt’s reaction in the morn, she was able to bolster her courage and stepped out into the hall.

  Drawing a mental picture of the wing in which his rooms were, Thomasina was thankful for the over-talkative girl who had carried her baggage to the new rooms given her only two days before. The maid had insisted upon describing every detail of the hall and rooms where his lordship slept.

  Thomasina had endured her talkativeness with a heavy heart. Now she was thankful she had put aside the urge to tell the girl to be silent.

  Soon the Marquess’ door was before her. Putting a hand on the knob, Thomasina raised the other to still her heart’s deafening thumps. Why did I not have Parker come with me to awaken him? she thought. Should I knock?

  No, that would awaken hi sman, she argued.

  Like a man leaping from a burning building, she opened the door and stepped in before her nerve completely deserted her.

  The clunk as it closed caused her to start. Thomasina found she had to stifle a nervous laugh then wondered why she should fear the sound would awaken him?

  If only it had, she thought as she edged towards the huge, canopied bed. Only a sheet covered the long slim form of the Marquess as he lay sleeping on his stomach, his head turned from her.

  Setting the candleholder on the table beside the bed, Thomasina waited, hoping the light would awaken him. A warm flush rose to her cheeks as she stared at the broad muscular back that lay bare before her. Never had she seen a man with less than a shirt. Never before had she desired to lay her hand on one’s bare skin.

  A strong desire to see his face as he slept came over her. Drawing nearer, she raised the candle above his head and stood on tiptoes staring down at the now relaxed, handsome face. Slowly she set the candle back onto the bedside table.