Chapter Fifteen
“I didn’t mean to lose my temper,” Thea said as she let Emma and Marianne into her bedchamber.
“You had every right. Tremont was being quite boorish,” Emma declared.
The understanding in her sister’s eyes caused a threatening prickle behind Thea’s own. Emma might be overprotective, but she could always be counted on to take one’s side.
Thea refused to give into tears. “I am not as delicate as he believes.”
Surveying the chamber, Marianne chose the chair at the vanity, her skirts draping gracefully as she sat. “All considering, I think your sensibilities are proving rather hardy. I daresay not every lady would handle the news of Tremont’s past with such equanimity.”
Em sat on the bed and patted the coverlet beside her.
Curling up next to her sister, Thea admitted, “It is shocking. But also not altogether surprising, if that makes any sense.”
As difficult as it was to conceive that Gabriel had been involved in espionage, it also sort of... fit. In some ways, she felt relieved because now things made more sense. His carefully controlled façade, the restless power beneath. Why he guarded his passions and secrets so tightly. Recalling the way he’d dispatched Rathburn and his deadly accuracy with darts, she wondered what other hidden skills he possessed.
She didn’t find the notion so much disturbing as intriguing. His aura of enigma, of potent self-containment, had always fascinated her. The discovery that he’d done his duty for his country added to her admiration of him. There were so many layers to his complexity, and she wanted to peel them back, one by one, to get to the true heart of him. To the powerful lover in the carriage and the tender suitor in the billiards room.
Dash it all… I’m falling in love with him.
Unfortunately, the tingling revelation was dampened by a healthy dose of annoyance. Why did she have to love a man who’d rejected her time and again? Who couldn’t seem to make up his mind about her?
Emma pursed her lips. “The shoe does sort of fit, doesn’t it? Spies must be rather cold-blooded to do their work, and I’ve always thought that Tremont was a bit of an iceberg.”
“Only insofar as he has hidden depths beneath the surface.” Despite her irritation with Gabriel, Thea jumped to defend him. “He might not wear his emotions upon his sleeve, but he is a man of deep feeling. I wouldn’t care about him otherwise.”
“Does he returns your affection, my dear?” Marianne said gently.
“We came to an understanding the night of the masquerade.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “At least, I thought we did.”
Emma’s gaze narrowed. “Did Tremont take advantage of you?”
“No. In fact, one might say the opposite occurred,” she said truthfully. “I may have taken advantage of him.”
Her sister’s brows inched upward.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” Marianne said. “Has Tremont proposed?”
“Before he was attacked, he said he wanted to discuss our future. Now he’s acting as if we’re no more than polite acquaintances.” Her frustration bubbled over. “From the start, he hasn’t been able to make his mind up about me, and it hurts. One minute he wants me, the next he’s pushing me away.”
“Most aggravating,” her sister-in-law agreed. “Although, in this instance, I do believe he’s trying to do the noble thing and protect you from his past.”
“I don’t care about his past. I care about him.”
Emma sighed. “Then I suppose we’d best put our heads together and get him out of this mess.” She wrinkled her nose. “Despite assertions to the contrary, I’ve personally found that the female perspective always comes in handy during investigations. Especially when one of the suspects is a woman.”
“And all the suspects are members of the ton—of which I am an expert,” Marianne added.
Thea had never loved the other two more. “What do you know about Lady Blackwood, Marianne?”
“As a matter of fact, Pandora does have rather mysterious beginnings.” A line formed between Marianne’s brows. “As I recall, she showed up in Society about a dozen years ago, claiming to be the daughter of one Henry Hudson. Hudson had held a minor title and been an adventurous sort—you know, the kind who lives abroad, digging up things. As far as anyone knew, he and his wife Flora had died during an expedition years ago. No one knew they had a child, but apparently Pandora had been raised at a finishing school on the Continent all these years. She furnished proof that she was indeed the Hudsons’ legitimate offspring and, as it happened, the last remaining member of that family.”
“How can you keep all that in your head?” Thea said, amazed. “You’re like a walking copy of Debrett’s.”
Lips curved, her sister-in-law continued relating the facts. “Within weeks of her return to England, Pandora met and married Blackwood. Theirs was a whirlwind courtship, but Society was willing to overlook it due to Blackwood’s status and position in the ton. Nonetheless, there were whispers about his impetuousness—especially when his heir arrived a scant eight months after the wedding.”
Thea recalled the genuine affection she’d witnessed between the Blackwoods. She bit her lip. “Do you think Lord Blackwood has any inkling that his wife was a spy?”
“I doubt it,” Marianne said. “He is an honorable gentleman and a military man to boot. Such knowledge would not sit well with him.”
“And if Lady Blackwood were indeed a double agent? What would happen to her marriage… and her family?” Thea’s throat constricted. “She told me she has three young boys.”
Marianne’s expression turned somber. “It is a disquieting notion, certainly.”
Thea’s instincts balked at the idea that Lady Blackwood was evil. “At the masquerade, she was so kind to me. And she was clearly in love with her husband.”
“According to Tremont, the lady has a talent for deception,” Marianne said.
“As a spy, I imagine that skill was necessary for survival,” Thea said. “She—and Tremont, for that matter—performed a great service for our country. They risked life and limb whilst the rest of us slept easy in our beds. And they did so knowing that their valiant efforts would never see the light of day. To me, that makes them heroes.”
“You have a point, and yet I fear you underestimate how the business of espionage might shape a person. You don’t know what Pandora Blackwood is capable of.” Marianne paused. “Or Tremont, for that matter.”
Thea stiffened. “What are you implying?”
“No need to get your back up, dear. I’m not trying to impugn your marquess’ character. But I do think he may have certain complexities at odds with your own optimistic view of the world.”
“I’m not a foolish miss,” she protested.
“No, you are a Kent,” Marianne said gently, “which means you have a good and loyal heart. I do not wish to see it broken.”
Irritation scuttled through Thea. “Why does everyone think I’m fragile? Doesn’t anyone see that my health has improved? I’m not as weak and useless as I used to be.”
Frowning, her sister said, “Who said you were weak and useless?”
“I know I was once the runt of the litter. But I’m stronger now, and I can help Tremont—”
“You’re not a runt. How could you think that?” Emma sounded genuinely surprised. “Dearest girl, you’re the rock of the family.”
She blinked. “I’m not the rock. You are.”
“According to Strathaven, I do have the impact of a boulder when I’m after something,” Emma said with a rueful grin, “but when it comes to being the stabilizing presence in our family—that is your role, Thea. It always has been.”
“No it hasn’t. I’m the sickly one,” she said, bewildered. “You’re always worried about my lungs, my health… ”
“Is this your way of saying that I’m too overbearing?”
“You are especially protective of me. And not without reason.” Thea’s throat worked. “I know my constitution is not as robust as everyone else’s.”
“If I’m overprotective, it’s a habit from when you were a little girl. In truth, it says more about me than it does about you.” Sighing, Emma said, “I am trying to be less managing.”
“You are caring, loving, and no one could ask for a better sister,” Thea said.
“And you, my dear, are even-tempered, kind, and the fulcrum of family peace—just like Mama was.” Em’s voice grew wistful. “She rarely took sides and saw the best in everyone.”
It stunned Thea that Emma saw her this way. “I always thought you were the one most like Mama. You’re so practical and industrious. When times were lean, you made sure we had food on the table, kept us clean and clothed. We survived because of you.”
“And thrived because of you. You never complained about anything and set an example for us all.” Emma’s head tipped to one side. “Remember the year we spent Christmas in the schoolhouse?”
Frost melted from a window of the past. Thea saw that long ago day clearly.
“You’d stretched that cheese and loaf of bread as far as anyone could, even giving up your share,” she said in soft tones, “but the younger ones were still so hungry. I can still remember Vi’s stomach rumbling.”
“The only thing louder was Violet herself.” Emma shook her head in fond reminiscence. “The way she was carrying on you’d think she hadn’t eaten for weeks. She got Polly and Harry going too, and soon they were caterwauling about everything, from the lack of plum pudding to the dearth of presents that year. Christmas might have been ruined entirely if you hadn’t remembered the keys.”
“Keys?” Marianne asked.
“To the schoolhouse. Papa had just been dismissed from his position as the schoolmaster because of his illness,” Thea explained, “but I remembered he had a set of spare keys—”
“And she convinced everyone to bundle up and tromp through the snow to the schoolhouse,” Emma reminisced. “There was a pianoforte there, and Thea played Christmas hymns for us all night. Everyone sang along, laughing, forgetting everything but being together.”
Thea smiled. “It turned out to be a fine Christmas after all, didn’t it?”
“Thanks to you. Which is why you must never doubt your strength,” her sister said.
“Emma has a point.” Her expression thoughtful, Marianne said, “Moreover, Tremont’s concern about your being ‘delicate’ may say more about him than you. For instance, what do you know about his first marriage?”
Only that it was perfect.
“From what little Tremont has said, Lady Sylvia was the ideal wife and mother,” Thea said with a pang. “They were very happy, I think.”
How can I compare with such a paragon? Her throat constricted. If the true source of his reservation was his devotion to his dead wife, then Thea could never win his heart. It was ironic, really. Because what she loved about him—the driven intensity of his passion—might be the very thing that kept them apart.
“Your description matches the on dit about Lady Sylvia. From everything I’ve heard, she was the epitome of female virtue. The fact that Tremont has never remarried or taken a lover adds a special shine to her halo.” Marianne cleared her throat. “You do know how she died?”
“Yes, in childbirth.” The moment Thea said it, the realization struck her. “Goodness. Do you think that is why he’s so concerned about my delicate health?”
“That is a question for him, my dear,” Marianne said.
Resolution rooted in Thea. Whatever his reasons, she was tired of being led back and forth like a toy on a string. She was a rock, according to her sister; from here on in, she would lay the foundation for her own future.
“I’m going to talk to him,” she said, “and I’m going to get answers once and for all.”
“Spoken like a true Kent,” Emma said with approval.