Thea's Marquis by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online Page B

watching Thea, “and one must go at daybreak for the widest variety, but I believe you would find it interesting.”
    Taking a deep breath, she looked him full in the face. “Thank you. Lord Hazlewood, I should like to go.”
    “If Mama permits,” Meg reminded her.
    “What am I asked to permit?” came a quiet voice, and the dowager entered the room, followed by her redheaded daughter-in-law, a Junoesque figure in green sarcenet.
    After an exchange of greetings, Meg explained. “Lord Hazlewood has invited Thea to visit Covent Garden Market. At dawn! I would not go for the world!”
    “Oh, Thea,” said young Lady Kilmore regretfully, “I wish I could go to keep you company.”
    “So do I, Penny dear, but it is out of the question. Mama, I shall be perfectly safe with Lord Hazlewood, and surely I am past the age to need a chaperon.”
    The dowager dithered. Patently, she had no desire to brave the vulgar crowds at that hour, nor did she want to disappoint her daughter. She shrank from offending the marquis, but equally she did not care to entrust Thea alone to him, whatever her age.
    With the last, Rod agreed. “Cannot your maid accompany you, Miss Kilmore?” he suggested.
    This solution was greeted with relief, and Will took his turn to propose his outing to Kew. “Everyone accepted my invitation,” he pointed out smugly to Rod as they departed a short time later.
     “What possessed you to plan an excursion to Kew?”
     “I discovered that Meg adores flowers.”
     “And what flowers, pray tell, do you expect to find at this time of year?”
    “There’s bound to be something blooming in the hothouses,” said Will optimistically. “What the devil possessed you to invite Miss Kilmore to the market? Not at all a suitable place for a lady.”
    “Miss Kilmore is no ordinary lady,” said Rod, unruffled.
     
    “How odd in the marquis to invite you to Covent Garden Market, Thea,” said her mother, perplexed. “Are you quite sure you did not misunderstand a reference to the theatre?”
    “No, Mama.”
    “One does not attend the theatre at daybreak,” Penny pointed out.
    “Then you must have been talking of parsnips. Oh dear, I did warn you not to.”
    “It was my fault,” Meg confessed. “I’m sorry, Thea. Mr. DeVine was shocked, I’m afraid, but the marquis took it quite in his stride.”
    “I fear Lord Hazlewood appears to be a trifle eccentric.” The dowager sounded vaguely worried.
    Thea flared up. “He is all that is obliging!”
    “Yes, my love, but I cannot help wondering why he is taking such pains for strangers with no conceivable claim to his benevolence.”
    “I heard Mr. DeVine mention ‘another quixotic start,’ ” said Thea hesitantly.
    “Oh, that is all right, then,” her mother said with relief. “If it is a habit with him to help lame dogs over stiles, he doubtless simply regards us as a cause for charitable concern.”
    “I am not a lame dog!” said Meg, her face pink with indignation.
    Penny laughed. “Not now, but the epithet fitted both you and me when we arrived at the Haycock.”
    “I suppose so. I wish Mr. DeVine had not seen me when I was so odiously ill and dressed in the dowdiest clothes.” Her attention was caught by something outside the window. “Penny, look. Two drays just pulled up in the street. I believe it is the painters and paper-hangers.”
    With the competent assurance Thea admired, Penny took charge. At her bidding, workmen were soon busy throughout the house in an orderly chaos of buckets and paste pots, brushes and ladders.
    The ladies escaped for a few hours to attend fittings at the dressmaker’s. When they returned, laden with packages, the house reeked of paint. Already tired, Penny found the smell unbearable, and she was further distressed to find Jason not yet come home.
    Begging Thea to go with her, she retired to the chaise longue in her dressing-room to rest before dinner.
    “I have scarcely set eyes on him since we arrived,” she