"Edward, for shame!" Elinor protested. "Such an example for Rosie!"
"Oh, I don't mind," Rosie said. "Did the dragons really make Mary go green? Clarry said she was quite pea-colored when she came downstairs."
"That's enough. I don't want to hear another word about the Gilbraiths," Elinor said in a tone that they all knew meant business.
"Very well, Mama," Theo said with a placating smile. "But will you invite her to go visiting with you or something… just to relieve me of a little of the burden?"
Elinor's expression so clearly indicated how little she relished such a prospect that her daughters burst into peals of laughter, and accusations of "hypocrite" flew around the table. Elinor shook her head ruefully. "I suppose we should all take a turn."
Edward took the cup of coffee Emily poured him. "Well, I hope you'll excuse me this morning. I was hoping to persuade Emily to drive with me in the park after breakfast."
"Oh, it'll have to be later," Theo said. "Emily and Clarry are coming on an errand with me."
"Oh, well, I'll accompany you, then."
Theo chuckled. "I don't think you want to do that, Edward. You'll be most uncomfortable." She turned to her mother. "We may have the barouche, mayn't we?"
Elinor sighed. "I suppose so, if you promise you're not up to some mischief."
"Mama, I am a married woman," Theo declared loftily. "How could you possibly think such a thing?"
"Very easily," Elinor said wryly.
"Well, I have to be back by eleven o'clock, because Jonathan is coming to finish his portrait," Clarissa said. "He's going to hang it in the hall of his mother's house, and she's going to give a soiree so that people may see it. Once they realize how talented he is, he's bound to get a host of commissions."
"I haven't seen it yet," Theo said. "Do you like it?"
Clarissa blushed. "He won't let me see it, not until it's finished."
"Well, if I were you, I'd just take the cloth off and have a peek when he's not here," Rosie declared.
"That's cheating," Clarissa exclaimed.
"I don't see why. It's a picture of you, not anyone else, so it sort of belongs to you. At least that's what I think."
"You have the same unorthodox attitude to conventional rules as your sister," Edward said pointedly.
Theo glanced at him. They'd had no chance to talk in private about the disastrous events at the Fisherman's Rest. He seemed to have forgiven her for involving him, but she knew he was curious to know what had transpired between herself and Stoneridge. She would tell him later, when she explained about the other scheme percolating in her mind. She'd need his involvement there too, but his role wouldn't require physical intervention. Once she'd explained her suspicions and her plan to him, she was convinced he would give her his wholehearted support, as he'd always done.
She leaned across and pecked him on the cheek. "Don't be stuffy."
"Someone needs to be where you're concerned," Edward said, burying his nose in his coffee cup to hide his reluctant grin.
Theo, perfectly satisfied with this response, pushed back her chair. "If Clarry has to be back in two hours, and I have to be back to look after my mama-in-law, we'd better get moving. I've no idea how long this is going to take."
A renewed chorus of What? rose round the table, but she just grinned mischievously and went into the hall to give order for the barouche to be brought around.
Fifteen minutes later the three of them were on their way to a discreet establishment on Bond Street.
Chapter Twenty-six
Sylvester awoke while his wife was spearing bacon in the Belmont breakfast parlor. He lay for a few minutes savoring his bodily ease and the miraculous absence of pain. His mind still retained the ghastly memories of his agony, and the memories made the present sense of well-being even more precious.
"My lord." Henry, alert to the slightest hint of movement from the bed, drew back the bed curtains, an anxious smile on his lips.
"Good morning, Henry. What's the time?"
"Past nine o'clock, sir."
"Good God!" His mind flew to Theo. He saw her face, hovering over him, her smile, those pansy-blue eyes filled with compassion and something even deeper than that. It was that something that had soothed him, had stopped his protests at her presence during his torture. He could feel her hand on his brow, cool and soft.
He sat up on his pillows. "I'm not mistaken in believing that Lady Stoneridge was in here?"
"No, my lord."
"Why the devil did you let her in?"
Henry cleared his throat. "I didn't, sir. She came through the window."
"What?" He remembered she'd told him she'd flown through the window, but it had meant nothing to him at the time.
He swung out of bed and strode to the window, flinging it wide onto the noisy bustle of London town waking for business. He stepped out onto the balcony, looked across at Theo's, then looked down into the street. His scalp crawled as he imagined that perilous crossing.
The woman was incorrigible. Utterly, totally incorrigible. He returned inside, shivering at the chill wind blowing through his nightshirt. "Bath, Henry."
"Right away, my lord. And breakfast." Henry hurried to the door, then paused. "Oh, her ladyship asked me to give you this as soon as you awoke." He hastened back to the secretaire and handed the earl the folded paper.
"Thank you." Just what was she up to now? Sylvester ran a hand over his unshaven chin with a grimace. "Hurry with that hot water, man."
Henry left, and the earl opened the sheet. Theo's distinctive script jumped off the page at him:
Dearest Sylvester,
Henry assured me that you'll be quite well when you awake, or I wouldn't have left. I will be in Brook Street when you're able to come and find me. Your mama is still asleep, so I feel sure she won't need me for a couple of hours.
Love, Theo.
Two large impetuous-looking kisses followed the signature. He folded the letter again and placed it in a drawer in his secretaire, a slight smile curving his mouth. She had never called him "dearest" before. The whole tone of the note was different from her usual undecorative communications, and he knew Theo was incapable of dissembling her feelings. They spilled from her with the purity of the bubbling source of a mountain stream. He saw her eyes again as they'd been during those dreadful hours, and a spurt of joy shot into his veins.
Henry came in with a breakfast tray, followed by two footmen bearing a hip bath and jugs of hot water. Sylvester's nose twitched at the aroma of coffee, and he sat down hungrily to break his long fast while his bath was filled.
Theo was still going to have to go back to Stoneridge, he decided. Just until he'd sorted out Neil Gerard. Then, with the past securely behind him and no shameful revelations to fear, he would go to her and they would break new ground with this marriage.
That settled, he enjoyed a leisurely bath and shave and dressed in buckskins and top boots. Henry eased a coat of olive superfine over the powerful shoulders and handed him gloves and his hat.
Filled with the euphoric well-being that he knew as well as the hell that preceded it, Sylvester strolled down the stairs. There seemed to be no sign of his mother or his sister, he thought with guilty relief. With luck he'd be out of the house before they put in an appearance.
"Have my horse brought round, Foster."
"Yes, my lord."
"With all dispatch," he added, casting an involuntary glance over his shoulder at the stairs.
Foster bowed, that glimmer of unholy amusement in his eye again. "Certainly, my lord. And what should I tell her ladyship when she comes down?"