“As do I. But it would not do to let him know that you care.”
That was Arabella’s pride speaking, of course. She was one of those aristocrats who nurtured indifference as if it were a pet. Which reminded Thea of another question.
“The note that Luxborough mentioned,” Thea said. “It sounded as if your father wants you to marry the earl.”
“Oh, Papa always wants me to marry someone.”
Arabella kept her eyes straight ahead. Her profile revealed nothing.
“Arabella, is your father—”
“But recall, Lord Luxborough seemed much more interested in you.”
“Yes, but what—” Thea stopped. Clearly, Arabella did not wish to discuss her father, and there was little point in wondering, yet again, what the earl might have meant.
Yet even without his unsettling words and the inexplicable promise gleaming in those eyes, there had been something about Lord Luxborough that made her feel… Oh, she didn’t know what it was. Something about the way he was so large yet so at ease with himself; the way he had crossed the tavern floor with such strong, sure-footed grace; the way he seemed not to give a flying farthing what anyone else thought.
Were it not for those scars, one would never imagine he had ever been weak. Yet for all that he was an earl—and therefore, by definition, a villain—he was also a man who had suffered. Somehow, he had recovered from that weakness; if only she could ask him how to do that, how to regain one’s faith when the world had been whipped out from under one’s feet.
Thea tried to shake off the discomfiting feelings his memory aroused, but the towering hedges lining the driveway offered no distraction, and her thoughts strayed back to him again.
“When a man is attacked by a giant cat,” she said, “do you think he becomes infected with the nature of the beast?”
Arabella turned her head slowly and raised one eyebrow. Cheered by this response, Thea continued.
“Consider it to be like the legend of the werewolf. Most of the time, he appears to be a perfectly normal gentleman.” She gripped Arabella’s forearm and lowered her voice for dramatic effect. “But at nightfall, he turns into a giant cat. He prowls through the shadows and pounces on humans like mice.”
Arabella gently reclaimed her arm. “If Lord Luxborough is a were-jaguar, then I do hope he is house-trained. I should not like him scratching the furniture and making a mess in corners.”
“If you please!” Thea protested. “A jaguar is far too noble a beast to do anything so vulgar as that.”
“You speak with great authority, considering you do not even know what a jaguar is.”
Thea sniffed haughtily. “I do not need to be an expert to share my expertise.”
“Fair point. Ignorance has never stopped anyone from talking knowledgeably about a subject.”
Any response Thea might have made died on her lips, as the barouche swung around a corner and the house came into view. House? Such a paltry word did not serve. The sprawling white pile boasted such an array of ornate wings and spires, Thea would sooner call it a palace. Arabella said nothing—it was her childhood home, after all—so Thea willed herself to stop fidgeting and feign nonchalance. She would not think about the daunting grandeur of this house, or about the lies she would tell the people inside it. She would think about something else instead.
“If I could turn into any animal at all, I would be a cat,” she announced.
“An ordinary house cat?” Arabella sounded appalled by the idea.
“There is nothing ordinary about a house cat. A cat is playful but fierce and doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Why, what would you be?”
“I would be a hawk.” Arabella tilted back her head and studied the twilight sky. “I would soar up high, where I could see and know everything. I would find my enemies and watch what they did.”
“And then?”
“I would swoop down and tear out their eyes.”
“Um.”
Arabella looked back at Thea with a faint, self-mocking smile, and that was their last quiet moment, for they had reached the house and the barouche came to a stop. Servants streamed out to assist them, and together they climbed the steps and entered a marble cavern that passed as a foyer, where a maid relieved Thea of her horrid bonnet and handed Arabella a letter. Arabella read the letter as she led Thea through a maze of stairs and corridors to a large, handsomely appointed chamber.
“You will have everything you require, as my guest,” Arabella said. “There is no need to be nervous: If I say you are Helen, no one will doubt it.”
“Thank you,” Thea said softly. “I realize that if this goes wrong, you will be disgraced.”
“Nothing will go wrong. Nevertheless, do not draw attention to yourself.”
“I never—” Thea caught Arabella’s sharp look and sighed. “I shall try.”
“And don’t get into trouble.”
“I shall try.”
“And don’t go near Lord Luxborough. He might think you are a mouse and pounce.”
“He might rub up against me and purr.”
Arabella’s eyebrows shot up and Thea considered her statement.
“That didn’t come out quite as I intended,” she said.
“I am serious, Thea. I shall not repeat those absurd rumors about sorcery, but something happened to his wife, and who knows what stories he has heard about you. Whatever he wants with you—or with Helen, rather—do not let him find you alone.”
Arabella was right, of course. It was just that Thea had so many questions.
Which she would not ask. She would not.
“Then I shall stay out of trouble by finalizing the plans for my pamphlet and deciding how I shall live when the truth is out and my reputation has been restored.”
Arabella waved the letter. “My publisher in London advises they have had to alter their schedules. They have an opening to print your pamphlets and whatnot this week. Otherwise, you may have to wait several weeks or even months. They recommend a Mr. Witherspoon to manage your publicity campaign. You must send your manuscript and instructions to London tomorrow, with a guarantee to cover the full costs.”
Thea’s heart sank. “So soon. I thought it would be after Helen returned from Scotland, so she could help me gather the money.”
Arabella considered. “I can speak to Mama, on the remote chance she will advance me a sum without asking questions, but otherwise, I am afraid money is one area where I cannot help. It is a source of considerable embarrassment to me that I shall inherit one of the finest estates in the middle of England but I cannot lay my hands on five pounds.”
“You have helped so much already. I’ll figure something out. I have to,” Thea added, almost to herself. “I have no family, no money, and only one friend. I might win, I might lose, but first I have to try.”
When Arabella had left, Thea explored her room, concluding her tour at one of the large windows, studying the expansive view in the lingering summer twilight. On a hill in the distance, past a million acres of garden, parkland, and forests, the famous ruins of Longhope Abbey were silhouetted against the pink sky. Below her, her window looked out onto one of the other wings, a length of stone arches that ended in an expanse of glass walls: the conservatory. The Earl of Luxborough’s rare plants waited for him behind those glass walls.