Page 75 of Regency in Color

It didn’t matter that she had surrendered her innocence. The choice had been hers, and she supposed the right man wouldn’t care that she would come into a marriage having already experienced intercourse. Stephen’s thoughtfulness had at least ensured she would not bear his child.

Had she agreed to become his mistress, Thalia might find herself tucked away in some lavish townhouse, raising his illegitimate children while he spent most of his time with the babes his duchess would bear. She would live to await his arrival, desperate for even the smallest shred of his affection.

Perhaps if she were destitute and had no other recourse, Thalia might have been grateful for the offer. She might have accepted it without second thought for the sake of a roof over her head and a bed to sleep in. But her father had provided well, and she had everything she needed to live a contented life.

Except, of course, someone to love. Thalia had thought she loved Stephen. Some nights, when she lay in the dark reliving their passionate moments, she heard a whisper from the recesses of her mind insisting that she still did. She was hurt and she was angry, but Thalia couldn’t forget the evening in its entirety. He had charmed and dazzled her in the surroundings of the gardens, making her believe that her dreams could someday be real.

Now she knew better and must move on with her life. It was the only thing to do.

Glancing over the rims of her spectacles, Thalia found Theo watching her from where she sat near the fire, that dratted etiquette book resting in her lap. She had asked about Vauxhall numerous times, but Thalia found it too difficult to speak of without thinking of Stephen, so she had offered only the barest information. Theo seemed to sense that something was wrong, and had been ever since the masquerade. Fortunately, Theo eschewed her usual propensity for meddling, leaving Thalia alone to wallow in her sorrow.

Their mother had dozed off in her favorite chair, a lap rug draped over her lap. Looking at her, Thalia had a moment of regret thinking of all the creature comforts Stephen might have offered them. As his mistress, she could have demanded Theo and their mother be allowed to live with her. Servants could wait on her hand and foot, and she would never have to spend her days cooking, tidying, or sewing for Theo and Thalia ever again.

Shaking her head, Thalia dismissed the thought. She had been diligent with her savings. Perhaps she could hire someone to lend her mother a hand. She would find a way to make that happen without having to sell herself in the process.

A sudden knock on the door jolted their mother out of her sleep, and sent Thalia’s book crashing to the floor as she shot to her feet. She traded puzzled glances with Theo, who shrugged as if to indicate she wasn’t expecting any visitors.

“Who could that be at this hour?” she murmured while bustling toward the door. Patting her hair, she bemoaned its messy state. She had taken very little care with her appearance this week, simply pinning her hair into haphazard coiffures and wearing her most worn and comfortable gowns.

Swinging the door open, her mouth fell open as she found the last person she would have expected. He looked windblown and rumpled, his cravat askew and his hair tousled. It annoyed her that despite this, he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Thalia,” he said, bracing a hand on the door before she could slam it in his face. “I regret our misunderstanding. I have tried to give you time, and didn’t want to come barging up here to disturb your peace. But I can bear this no longer.”

“Stephen, now is not a good time,” she whispered.

He glanced past her for the first time, noticing that her mother and sister were staring at him with curious eyes. Clearing his throat, he offered a bow. “I beg your pardon, ladies. I did not mean to interrupt your evening.”

Thalia’s mother was on her feet, already bustling toward the kitchen. “Nonsense. Thalia, stop being so rude and allow your guest through the door. Theo, help me with the tea tray.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mama,” Thalia said. “This will only take a moment.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Theo chimed in, her gaze raking over Stephen with curiosity and interest. She knew an aristocrat when she saw one, and seemed to be mentally planning the rest of her life around Stephen walking through their door.

Thalia sighed, realizing she had no choice. She couldn’t allow her mother and sister to know what had happened between them. “Stephen, this is my mother, Mrs. Henrietta Ramsey, and my sister, Miss Theodosia Ramsey. Mother, Theo … this is Stephen Dryden … the … the Duke of Westerfield.”

Theo dropped her book and issued a loud gasp, while their mother clapped a hand over her bosom.

Theo recovered first, issuing a curtsy that had taken weeks before a mirror to perfect. “We are honored that you would visit our home, Your Grace.”

Her mother snapped out of her silent stupor and quickly followed suit—though her curtsy didn’t hold a candle to Theo’s. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”

Stephen waved a hand. “Please, there is no need for that. Thalia and I are friends of a sort, and I would be delighted if you would call me Stephen.”

“No,” Thalia protested. “They will not call you Stephen. They will say farewell, and you will leave. Now.”

But Stephen was already over the threshold, and Thalia knew she wasn’t strong enough to budge him. “Not until you hear me out. You had much to say the last time we saw one another, but I never said my piece. If you still wish to put me out after I am finished, I will accept that. But I cannot leave until I’ve said what I came to say.”

Yet again, Thalia was left with no recourse. They were causing a scene, and soon she wouldn’t be able to hide what any of this was about.

“Thalia, what’s going on?” her mother asked, her anxious eyes flitting from Thalia to the duke and back again.

“Everything is fine, Mother,” Thalia replied. “Would you and Theo excuse us for a moment? The duke and I have something to discuss.”

Theo protested, but their mother took her arm and hauled her from the room. They disappeared into the room the two women shared, quickly shutting the door behind them. Thalia could only imagine what was being discussed inside.

She turned to face Stephen, her lips set to give him what for. Before she could make a sound, Stephen was on her, yanking her into his arms and pressing his mouth to hers. She stiffened, but he melted her far too easily. Her lips yielded to his, seeking and searching, tingling with sensation. Her stomach twisted itself in knots, and her heart pounded against her breastbone.

Pushing him away, she drew in a deep breath and steadied herself. “No. This cannot happen. You made your offer and I refused. I have not and will not change my mind. If you wish me to return the gifts you sent, I will gladly gather them for you right now.”