‘Responsible,’ he flung back, ignoring that last jibe. Rhys planned so that nothing, nobody would have the chance to let him down again, but he saw no reason to justify himself. He caught at the ragged edge of his temper and said coolly, ‘Grow up, Thea.’
‘I have.’ Annoyance was bringing out the colour to her cheeks. ‘But I do not understand why being a responsible adult involves losing spontaneity, joy, surprise. Adventure.’ The look she shot him held reproach. ‘Have you any concept what it would be like to have to dwindle into an old maid or be married off to a man whom you cannot like, let alone respect?’
No, he could not, and it made him damnably uncomfortable that Thea of all people feared those things. His conscience nudged him. She had been his friend and he had all but forgotten her as he had rebuilt his life. But what did he know about respectable women and their emotional needs? Perhaps some practical common sense would help—it was all he had to offer. ‘This is not about me. It is about you, Thea. You have two assets that must last you your lifetime, if you are not to marry.’
She tipped her head to one side, instantly curious. She had never been able to hold on to a bad mood for long. The only time he had seen her stay angry was two hours after the fiasco of his wedding ceremony when he had found her wringing the neck of Serena’s bouquet. And even then, when she had seen him, she had smiled ruefully. ‘Poor flowers, it isn’t their fault.’
‘I have my inheritance, that is all,’ she said now.
‘You have that, and you will need to choose your financial and legal advisers with great care, for those funds must last to finance your independence.’
‘So what is the other asset?’ Intelligent hazel eyes fringed with dark lashes narrowed in thought.
‘Your reputation. Respectable single women with wealth and breeding and a certain interesting eccentricity will be accepted anywhere—look at Godmama. But get a shady reputation, just the hint of loose behaviour, and you will find doors close in your face.’
‘Loose behaviour? Me?’ Thea gave an unladylike snort of derision.
‘Like gadding about the Continent unchaperoned with a man to whom you are not related, for example?’
The charming blush faded. ‘Nonsense. No one is going to find out. Godmama and I will concoct a suitable story involving a courier and a suitable female companion, you’ll see.’ There it was again, just that flash of emotion behind the confidence. Surely it could not be fear of what would await her if she had to return home?
‘I hope so. It is getting cold—let’s go down and see what there is for dinner.’ He stood and offered his arm and she slipped her hand under his elbow. He was apparently forgiven. But then, Thea always did forgive. Rhys felt another twinge of guilt, this time for goading her and, at the same time, for entertaining Gothic imaginings about her father. The earl might not be the best parent in the world, but he would not mistreat Thea, surely?
‘Scallops, I hope. Dieppe is famous for them, I believe.’
‘That sounds good,’ Rhys agreed. ‘I was thinking of a fat lobster, personally.’
He waited until they had left the slippery cliff-top turf for the worn path before he asked, ‘Would it not be better to find a husband after all? Someone to take care of you—and your inheritance?’
‘His inheritance, you mean. Once I marry, I lose all control of my money.’
‘Is that why you are so set against marriage?’ A group of soldiers lounged by a checkpoint on the road out of town. They glanced over at them, then went back to their game of dice. There was something she was not telling him, and he was going to winkle it out of her, however hard she resisted.
‘I am not set against marriage, as such,’ Thea protested. ‘But it is such a risk. A woman hazards so much. I am resolved not to marry unless I fall in love, which seems to me to be the only reason for taking the plunge. And I can tell you, that is highly unlikely.’
‘What about Sir Anthony Meldreth?’
‘As I said, we found we did not suit.’
Perhaps she had sounded unconvincing, for Rhys stopped and looked at her sharply. ‘What happened?’
Bother and blast, I am blushing. ‘Nothing.’
‘Thea…’ Rhys’s tone told her he would not let this go now. ‘Sit down here and tell me.’ He gestured to a bench by the side of the path.
‘Oh, well, if you must pry into every last detail!’ Thea sat down with an inelegant thump and stared at her toes. ‘He led me to believe he loved me, that he was interested in the things that I enjoyed, that he respected my opinions, that he wanted a wife who would be an equal.’
‘And did you love him?’
‘In a way, yes. I thought he would be a good companion and I trusted him when he said he wanted only me, for myself.’
‘And he did not?’ Rhys’s voice was softer now.
‘I overheard him discussing settlements with my father. They had agreed on his approach together so that Papa could get me off his hands and Anthony would gain my inheritance and a piece of land he had been wanting for a long time that Papa had previously refused to sell.’
‘That must have been…difficult to cope with. What did you do? Confront them?’
‘No. I told Anthony that I had changed my mind and I did not think we would suit. He told me I was frigid and not worth what my father offered him.’
‘Frigid? Did he force you?’
‘No.’ It was apparently possible to blush this hard without bursting into flames. ‘I allowed him certain…liberties. When I thought we were in love, you understand.’ Thea fixed her gaze on her clasped hands.
‘Certain liberties? What the blazes does that mean?’ Rhys sounded furious. Thea flickered a glance in his direction and saw his face. He was furious.
‘Rhys, for goodness’ sake, I cannot discuss this with you!’
‘Why not? You are under my protection. The man’s a bastard to trifle with you. I will deal with him when I get back to England.’
‘Call him out? For pity’s sake, Rhys—on what pretext?’
‘I’ll find one. I am certain I can take offence at his hat, or his face or the way he laughs.’
‘Oh, Rhys.’ There was no point in arguing and, besides, Sir Anthony was a long way away. Rhys’s temper would have cooled by the time he got home. He fired up when he saw her predicament as a matter of honour, but he did not truly understand her horror of returning to that life where she was either a pawn or a tool, where her true self would simply dwindle and vanish. A man simply would not comprehend how a woman’s powerlessness could make her feel.
‘Love’s an illusion,’ Rhys said abruptly. ‘You realise that now, I presume?’
‘No, I don’t. I was mistaken in him and my own sentiments, that is all. You know that love does exist,’ Thea said softly. She reached out and curled her fingers around his forearm for a moment. ‘If it did not, you would not be so set on making a loveless, suitable marriage this time. Love hurts—that is how we know it is real.’
Rhys moved abruptly, but she kept looking straight ahead so all he would be able to see was the top of her plain straw bonnet. ‘Put your veil down,’ he ordered.
‘Oh. Yes, of course.’
She arranged it carefully, then let him take her hand and help her to her feet. Now that she had satisfied his curiosity, perhaps