But now, instead of looking forward to Thea’s, at turns soothing and scintillating, company, he was expected to remain home tonight—alone? For some deuced surprise Ellie had concocted?
Devil take him!
What was the world coming to when a man had to moderate his blazing passions at the request of his mistress?
3
Planetary – and Other – Bodies Collide
“Ah, Mrs. Hurwell.” Mr. Taft greeted Thea with a warm and relieved expression that evening moments after her clock dinged ten times. Refusing to remove his raindrop-speckled greatcoat, he addressed her from just inside the door. “I despaired over finding you at home and receiving, but I only now arrived at the hotel and was informed of your letter. Thank goodness you included your direction. I’m leaving for home early tomorrow—it’s my grandson’s tenth birthday. Can’t miss that, now could I?”
“Of course not,” she said automatically, glancing at Buttons who’d let in the renowned clockmaker as Mr. and Mrs. Samuels had already retired.
Upon returning from her excursion with Lady Wylde, Thea had indulged in a thorough washing and donned one of the new ensembles Madame V had graciously delivered while Thea was out.
The dressmaker had sent round two simple day dresses, both cut down from ones she’d brought the day before, along with matching slippers. The message accompanying the package instructed Thea to present herself Monday morning for fittings on several others.
This gown was much more to her liking than the fancy, false-fronted one of last evening. In the Grecian style, caught up beneath her breasts with a jade ribbon, the pastel green cambric trimmed with a single layer of ecru lace pleased her immensely.
In it, she actually felt like a real lady for once, which was the only reason she was still up and attired when her late-evening visitor came calling.
But as Mr. Taft finished his smiling greeting—after expressing his pleasure at seeing her again and his regret at needing to leave at first light—he baffled her thoroughly with his next words. “If you’re agreeable and think he won’t be overly inconvenienced by the hour, don your winter gear and we’ll go visit your Lord Tremayne and see if we can fix his orrery right up.”
We? “Now?”
“Of course, my dear. You don’t expect me to call upon the man without your chaperonage?” He laughed good-naturedly. “A little above my station, wouldn’t you say? But I’m pleased as a pickle to see you’ve picked up such a lofty suitor. Hate to hear Hurwell’s gone but glad you’ve moved on.”
He thought Lord Tremayne was courting her?
Well, shear her like a Suffolk sheep!
Couldn’t he tell? That in truth she was Lord Tremayne’s kept woman? His strumpet?
Her panicked gaze flicked to the nude portraits. But they were gone, replaced by a waterfall on one side and a close-up of songbirds on the other. Knowing she’d just heard clocks chime, she looked for the sinfully suggestive cuckoo, but the wall was blank. The figurines were missing as well, the only thing gracing her crimson table runner was the silver tray and a vase of fresh, peppy flowers.
Startled, she turned to Buttons, who still stood unobtrusively to one side. Noticing what she was about (no doubt aided by her levitating eyebrows), he pointed directly overhead. Master chamber he mouthed and her heart rate settled down from its rapid-fire pace.
Courting me? Thea mouthed back because it seemed as good a way to communicate as any. Buttons shrugged, then nodded, as though uncertain how to correct the erroneous assumption but still offering both support and encouragement.
When the clockmaker again urged her toward the door, Thea finally acquiesced.
It looked as though she and Mr. Taft would be paying her protector a call. Thea forbore from calling on the Almighty to deliver her from this mess. She’d made her naughty bed and enjoyed rolling around in it; now wasn’t the time to turn squeamish.
In moments, they were rolling swiftly through the wet streets, the jagged lightning in the distance protesting her subterfuge. Buttons had squeezed in next to the driver after whispering to Thea that he’d try to make sure “his lordship got the drift of things”.
While Mr. Taft reminisced fondly of his past trips to London and Thea answered appropriately if distractedly, one thought kept her seated and not running for the sanctuary of her just-departed townhouse: she’d learned from Lord Tremayne’s sister that he wasn’t married.
Thank God and chatty relations for that tidbit. It was one thing to show up on his doorstep; quite another to be confronted with his unsuspecting, betrayed wife.
Bored with everything he’d tried (obsessed with his new mistress, more like) Daniel decided to retire at half past ten.
In his shirtsleeves after more tinkering with one of his working orreries, ironically slowing the rotation of Uranus on this particular specimen (darn planet put all the others to shame with its snail’s crawl of an eighty-plus year orbit of the Sun), he was just leaving his study and approaching the stairs that led up to his bedchamber when the door knocker clanged.
Who would be calling at this hour?
Frowning, he started down the stairs instead. He’d ordered Rumsley to bed when he found out his butler’s gout was acting up again. John had stepped out with Ellie’s maid a while ago, after seeing whether Daniel needed anything or wanted him to remain on duty. He’d sent his footman off with his blessing. At least one of them could be with their lady tonight.
The door knocker banged again, and he descended the last few treads at a run before his quiet household was disturbed anymore by the racket.
He swung the heavy door wide and about choked on his own spit. Surprise warred with astonishment.
“Thea!” On his
