A WINTER SCANDAL is the first in new series by one of the
queens of historical romance. Althea Bainbridge is the local
vicar's sister and she feels as if she is firmly on the
metaphorical shelf. As she readies the small chapel of St.
Dwynwen for the holidays, she realizes the rut her life has
become and prays to the humble saint for a change, any
change. A fretful cry fills the air, and she finds a child
in the manger that is to be set out for the live Nativity
scene. In the baby's swaddling cloth is a brooch with an
initialed crest design she recognizes all too well. It
matches the crest on the ring worn by their local Lord.
Gabriel, Lord Morecombe's sister has been missing for a
year. The brooch brought to him by the fiery spinster is the
first hint that she may still be alive. He is determined to
protect the child who may very well be his nephew but has no
way to properly care for him in his current household of
drunken men. No local woman, not even a scullery maid would
willingly put herself into such a reputation-damaging
situation.
It is agreed that Althea will continue to look after the
child until Gabriel can determine a plan of action and
hopefully find his sister. Then the tale takes a twist as
the man who almost certainly fathered the babe shows up, and
a mysterious stranger begins hanging about and asking
questions.
Candace Camp has written a solid start to her new Legend of
St. Dwynwen series, with some interesting revelations as A
WINTER SCANDAL carries on. I particularly enjoyed her
portrayal of Althea, a woman who has enough confidence to
carry off all manner of unusual behavior in the service of
protecting the child. I will be looking forward to the
release of book two,A Summer Suduction, set to be
released in June of 2012.
New York Times bestselling author Candace Camp weaves
a heartwarming tale, first in a thrilling new series, of
Christmastime love, discovery, and scandal. . . .
When plain and proper Thea Bainbridge stumbles upon a
baby in the manger of her church\'s nativity, she is
understandably shocked. Discovering a brooch bearing the
insignia of Gabriel, Lord Morecombe, hidden among the
child\'s clothing, she is certain the dissolute rake is to
blame. Incensed, Thea sets out to reproach the arrogant
lord—only to find herself utterly swept away. Gabriel
is intrigued by the vivacity in Thea\'s flashing gray eyes
when she accuses him of fathering the orphan, even as he
adamantly maintains his innocence. The brooch is one he
remembers all too well, however, and Gabriel is determined
to find the mother of the missing child. As the mystery
around the baby deepens, Gabriel is continually thrown
together with Thea—and finds himself growing more entranced
every day. Even with whispers of winter scandal
swirling around them, they cannot deny the longing in their
hearts. A longing which promises the best gift of all: a
shelter from the storm . . . in each other\'s arms.
Excerpt
One
The Squire\'s house was ablaze with lights in the crisp
December evening, and the boughs of evergreen branches
festooned across the lintel added to the festive air. A
groom hurried forward as the vicar\'s pony trap pulled to a
stop in front of the house, and Daniel handed him the reins
before going around to help his sister out of the open-air
vehicle. It had been a cold ride over to Cliffe Manor, and
despite the lap robe across their legs and the hood Thea had
drawn up around her head, she was chilled, her cheeks pink.
As soon as Thea stepped into the warm house, of course, her
spectacles fogged up, and she had to take them off and wipe
them before replacing them on her nose.
\"Vicar! And Althea! How delightful to see you,\" Mrs.
Cliffe, the Squire\'s wife, greeted them effusively,
squeezing Thea\'s hands in both of hers. The Squire\'s wife,
like her husband, was built along generous lines, and her
rather square form was encased in a gown of green velvet
with a wide, low neckline that revealed an alarming amount
of white bosom. A pearl necklace, elbow-length white gloves,
and a green turban with a long, curling peacock feather
completed her ensemble.
Next to her, the Squire was far more soberly dressed,
but his hearty greeting equaled his wife\'s. He shook
Daniel\'s hand vigorously and bowed to Thea with more
enthusiasm than grace. \"Well met, Vicar, well met. Miss
Bainbridge. It\'s a pleasure to see you. I am sure your dear
sainted father would be proud of you both.\"
Daniel responded with only a bow, so Thea hurried to
add her thanks. \"It is kind of you to say so, sir. I know it
is very important to my brother to strive for the excellence
that our father achieved for St. Margaret\'s.\"
What Thea actually knew was that it was a small source
of irritation to Daniel to be always compared to their
father, Latimer Bainbridge, who was a most learned as well
as spiritual man. She and Daniel were aware that Latimer had
felt some disappointment that not all his children had
measured up to his expectations. Their sister, Veronica, had
been exactly as a girl should be, pretty and pleasant in
nature, and she had made a good marriage, so Latimer had not
been bothered by her lack of interest in intellectual
pursuits. But while Daniel and Thea both had a scholarly
bent of mind, the truth was that Daniel was more interested
in exploring Roman ruins than in examining the human soul,
and Thea, unfortunately, was a female. Thea could not follow
in their father\'s footsteps, and while Daniel did take over
the living at St. Margaret\'s, he did not invest the same
time and interest in it that Latimer would have liked.
\"If I know you, Vicar, you have been hard at work on
your Christmas sermon,\" Mrs. Cliffe offered with a waggish
smile. \"I do so love to hear your thoughts on the Holy
Word.\"
Thea wondered how the Squire\'s wife would view her
brother\'s sermons if she knew that they were mostly written
by Thea herself. Of course, Thea was not about to tell her
that, but she could not think of another comment to make to
Mrs. Cliffe, so she merely smiled. She was finding it more
difficult to concentrate tonight than usual.
\"Here, here, have a cup of Christmas cheer,\" Mrs.
Cliffe went on, guiding Thea over to a narrow table, which
held several cups of steaming broth. \'Twill warm you right
up.\"
A footman came up to take Thea\'s cloak, and she picked
up one of the small ceramic cups, gratefully curling her
hands around the warm drink. While her hostess continued to
chatter, Thea sipped at the spiced soup, to which a generous
amount of negus had been added. The mulled Madeira in the
negus was potent enough to make Thea\'s eyes water, but the
heat of it sliding down her throat and filling her insides
was delightful. She hoped it would serve to unknot the
tangle of nerves in her stomach, as well. It was foolish to
be on such pins and needles, but she could not seem to bring
her rebellious nerves into order.
\"Don\'t you look nice, my dear,\" Mrs. Cliffe went on.
\"So neat and orderly. I always say to my girls, take notice
of Althea Bainbridge, that is just how a lady ought to
conduct herself. She doesn\'t put on airs to make herself
interesting or flirt with young men or spend her time
fussing with her hair. She knows that there are more
important things than looking pretty.\"
\"Indeed,\" Thea murmured, with long practice turning
aside the implied slight. She was well accustomed to being
plain, after all, and could hardly fault others for
realizing it.
\"Of course my girls are still so young—all they think
about is how they look. Sometimes I think there aren\'t
enough mirrors in the house.\" The middle-aged woman let out
a hearty laugh and looked down the great hall to where her
daughters stood in a cluster, giggling and talking
animatedly. There were four of them, all dressed in white,
with enough ribbons and ruffles and frills to decorate a
whole host of young ladies.
If the girls were being taught to emulate her, Thea
thought, looking down at her own unadorned gray gown, they
certainly seemed to have missed the mark. \"Your daughters
are all quite lovely tonight.\"
\"Thank you, my dear.\" The Squire\'s wife gave Thea a
self-satisfied smile. \"They are a pretty sight, aren\'t they?
They are absolutely humming with excitement about our \'very
special guest.\' No doubt you are above all that sort of
silliness after all these years. But my little misses are
like to faint from the anticipation. Even I, I vow, am
awaiting Lord Morecombe\'s arrival most eagerly. No doubt it
is different for you, since you are related to the Earl of
Fenstone, but I have never played hostess to one of the
peerage before.\"
\"We are only distantly related,\" Thea demurred. Her
father had been the youngest son of the youngest son of an
earl, making him a cousin to Lord Fenstone, which meant that
while their bloodline was unquestionably good, her family
had never had an adequate fortune to take part in the life
of the ton—not, of course, that Latimer, or she
herself, for that matter, would have wanted to be a part of
that society. \"There is every reason for you to be excited,\"
she told her hostess. \"You scored a veritable coup in
landing Lord Morecombe for your Christmas ball. I am sure
everyone here is all agog to meet him.\"
Lord Morecombe, a bachelor of some note, had a few
weeks ago purchased the house known hereabouts as the
Priory, which had belonged to the Earl of Fenstone. Lord
Fenstone had rarely made a visit to the Priory in all the
years he had owned it, but Lord Morecombe had arrived for a
stay two weeks earlier, bringing with him a number of his
friends. Since that time, his lordship, his friends, and the
goings-on at the Priory had been the central theme of all
gossip in the village of Chesley. No matter how high or low,
how old or young, how distant or near, everyone seemed to
have a story concerning the newcomers, and everyone was
always eager to hear more about him.
\"Well, I must confess—\" Mrs. Cliffe leaned a little
closer and lowered her voice a trifle. \"I did wonder if I
should have done so. I mean, inviting these young men to be
around young, impressionable girls? One has heard such
unsavory tales. … Still—\" She brightened. \"I thought, after
all, he is friends with Lord Fenstone\'s son. Indeed, the
Earl\'s son is one of the young men staying at the Priory
with him. An excellent family, of course, and doubtless Lord
Morecombe is from a good family, as well. And one must
expect young gentlemen to sow a few wild oats, now, mustn\'t
one?\" Her eyes twinkled merrily. \"Of course, I should not be
discussing such things with an unmarried girl like you.
Though you\'re not really a girl anymore, are you? But still
…\"
Thea clung a little grimly to her pleasant expression.
She was well aware that she was considered completely \"on
the shelf.\" It was little wonder, given that she had reached
the ripe old age of twenty-seven without the slightest hint
of a proposal from an eligible man … or, indeed, even from
an ineligible one. Still, she had not yet become immune to
such dismissals. She wondered when a woman did become
accustomed to them. Her voice was a trifle brittle as she
responded, \"No, indeed, ma\'am, you need not watch your
tongue with me. I am well past the age of being an
impressionable young girl.\"
\"You have always been such a sensible young lady.\" Mrs.
Cliffe beamed her approval at Thea. \"Now, you should run
along, dear; you have spent enough time talking with an old
woman like me. Go join the younger set. Your friend Mrs.
Howard is already here, though I\'m not sure where she\'s got
to.\" Mrs. Cliffe glanced around vaguely.
\"Is she?\" Thea brightened. \"Indeed, I will go find her.
Thank you.\"
Thea strolled through the great hall, nodding and
smiling and stopping now and then to talk to someone. Her
progress was slow, for she had lived in the village of
Chesley all her life and was well known by its residents.
She found Damaris Howard near the rear of the large room,
standing with Mrs. Dinmont and a woman she recognized as the
wife of the Squire\'s younger brother.
\"Thea!\" Damaris turned toward her, smiling.
Damaris\'s thick, lustrous black hair was pulled up and
pinned in intricate arrangements of curls. Her almond-shaped
eyes were an unusual shade of blue-gray that seemed almost
lavender, an effect heightened today by the deep purple of
her stylish silk gown. Her creamy white skin was in sharp
contrast to the vivid color of her hair and eyes. Jet
earrings and a simple jet-and-ivory cameo around her slender
neck were the only adornments she wore other than a spray of
diamonds in her hair. She looked, as always, far too
beautiful and sophisticated for a remote village such as
Chesley.
She had lived here for less than a year, and no one
knew where she had come from. She had a faint aura of
mystery about her that was both intriguing and difficult to
pinpoint. Her rich contralto voice held no hint of accent.
Mrs. Howard was obviously genteel, but she never spoke of
her family connections, and though she said she was widowed,
no one knew anything about her deceased husband. She was
clearly familiar with London and Bath, as well as several
foreign cities, yet she never really spoke of any place as
her home. And though no one knew much about her, she never
seemed secretive, so that one was left with a vague sense
that one knew Damaris without really knowing many details of
her life.
For one brief moment, Thea felt a pang of envy for
Damaris\'s rich gown of royal purple and her artfully upswept
hair. Both, she knew, were quite outside her reach. Thea
could not have afforded such a glorious dress, and even if
she could have, it would be foolish to waste so much money
on a ball gown that would be worn only two or three times
when she had a perfectly good one from last year. The
vicar\'s family, after all, was always in the public eye, and
it would not do for the vicar\'s sister to appear wasteful or
vain.
And as for her hair—well, it was nonsense, Thea knew,
to rail against the fate that had given Thea her wayward
curls, which often managed to escape from mere hairpins and
frizz wildly all over her head until she looked a fright.
The best way to subdue her unruly mane was to braid it and
wind the plaits tightly into a coil atop the crown of her
head. The style did not enhance her looks, but at least it
was practical.
Thea wore her spectacles for the same reason. When she
was young, she had often abandoned her spectacles when she
attended parties in an effort to show off her best feature,
her large gray eyes. However, she had gotten over such
vanity through the years. It was silly to sit through a
dinner or go to a party and be unable to see clearly three
feet from her face. And what good did it do, really, to
pretend for a few hours that she did not look as she did?
As Damaris excused herself from the other two women and
came over to Thea, smiling, Thea pushed aside her moment\'s
longing for beauty. It was one\'s heart and soul that
mattered, after all, as her father had always told her.
\"Thea, I am so glad you have rescued me,\" Damaris
murmured as she slipped her arm through Thea\'s and started
to stroll away with her. \"I vow I have been positively
drowning in tales of Lord Morecombe.\"
Thea chuckled. \"I have no doubt. Were they talking of
the carriage full of women of doubtful character who drove
over from Cheltenham? Or the wagonload of brandy and ale
coming by night in a very suspicious manner?\"
\"Smuggling in liquor to his cellars? I doubt that would
raise many eyebrows around Chesley,\" Damaris retorted.
\"Though the amount he brought in might. No, Mrs. Dinmont was
regaling Mrs. Cliffe the younger with stories of shooting
contests that involved picking out the candles of the
chandelier. Mrs. Cliffe countered that the man has no maids
in the house because no self-respecting female will work
there. Of course, they both agreed that they are
nevertheless waiting with bated breath to meet the legendary
lord.\"
\"Mm. Everyone seems to be.\" Thea refused to think about
her own dancing nerves. \"I am sure his fortune and the fact
that he is a bachelor will overcome any objections anyone
may have to his moral character.\"
\"I believe his face plays a role, as well. Everyone
agrees he is as handsome as Lucifer before the fall.\"
\"Yes. I suppose.\" Thea could feel heat rising in her
face, and she looked down at her glove, rebuttoning the
little round button through its loop.
\"Have you ever seen him?\" Damaris went on. \"I have
not.\"
Thea shrugged as she turned her gaze out on the crowd.
\"His friend Lord Wofford is my second cousin, though I
scarcely know Cousin Ian more than to say hello.\"
Damaris looked at Thea thoughtfully, but if she found
it odd that her friend had not really answered her question,
she did not say so. \"Well, I shall be interested to see him,
I admit, but I am growing rather weary of hearing about our
local lord. Let us turn to a more interesting topic. You
will be pleased to know that I received a shipment of books
this week. You shall have to come round and look at them.\"
\"Really? How delightful.\"
\"They included Cantos I and II of Lord Byron\'s Don
Juan.\" When Thea did not respond, her friend glanced at
her, surprised. \"Thea?\"
\"What? Oh, I am sorry.\" Thea blushed. \"I am afraid my
mind wandered.\"
\"Are you all right?\"
\"Oh, yes, of course. I am just a bit distracted
tonight. I am sorry. I fear you said something that I was
not attending to—something about the books you received?\"
\"Yes. I got in Lord Byron\'s new poem.\"
\"Did you?\" Thea\'s eyes widened appreciatively. She
understood now why Damaris had been so startled by her lack
of response to the news. Thea was an avid reader, and until
Damaris arrived, no one else in Chesley shared her love of
books except her brother, Daniel—and his tastes ran more to
the scholarly. Books of history or even the philosophical
and religious texts her father had enjoyed were all very
well, of course, and Thea read whatever her father or
brother ordered from London. But she also had a love of
poetry and novels and satire, which were all too scarce in
the study at home. When Thea first met Damaris, and their
conversation had turned to books, Thea knew she had found a
friend. \"Is Don Juan terribly shocking? It is
supposed to be, but I confess, I cannot wait to read it.\"
Damaris laughed, and Thea joined in, though afterward
she said, \"I would not tell anyone but you that. I fear I am
not a very good example to Daniel\'s flock.\"
\"Well, they are his parishioners, after all, not
yours.\"
\"I know. But I do have a certain duty.\" Thea let out an
unconscious sigh.
\"I promise I shall not tell anyone that you are
borrowing it.\"
\"Have you read it yet?\"
\"My dear, the very evening I got it! Though I shall go
back for a longer perusal, of course. But it is wonderful.
You will not be disappointed, I assure you.\"
\"I am sure that I will not. It is very kind of you to
lend it to me.\" Thea glanced toward the front of the hall,
where the Squire and his wife were still receiving guests.
She noted that she was not the only guest who kept turning
to look at the entrance. Everyone, it seemed, was awaiting
Mrs. Cliffe\'s \"very special guest.\"
\"If Lord Morecombe does not attend, it will spell
disaster for Mrs. Cliffe\'s party,\" Damaris said, following
Thea\'s gaze.
\"It is foolish in the extreme, of course, to put so
much interest in the appearance of one person,\" Thea said,
feeling a bit guilty at being caught looking. Resolutely she
turned so that her back was toward the door.
\"No doubt it is, but still, \'tis difficult not to be
caught up in it.\"
Thea glanced around and let out a little sigh as her
eyes fell on the row of people seated against the wall. \"I
had better pay my respects to the Squire\'s mother. Would you
like to come?\"
Damaris chuckled. \"Thank you, but I have already done
my duty there this evening. I am afraid you must face the
gorgon on your own.\"
Thea had to smile at the comparison. The old woman, who
was wrapped in a shawl and grimly studying the occupants of
the room, often made one feel as if she could turn one to
stone. \"If you think the experience is treacherous for you,
think of those of us whose every childhood misstep is known
to her!\"
Thea bade good-bye to her friend and made her way
toward the rear of the room to make her curtsy to the elder
Mrs. Cliffe.
\"It\'s good to see you, ma\'am.\" The polite lie slid off
Thea\'s tongue with the ease of long practice. \"I hope you
are well this evening.\"
\"Hmmph.\" The old woman cast a baleful glance at Thea.
\"As well as I can be, I suppose, with one foot in the
grave.\" She thumped her cane against the floor and nodded
toward the chair beside her. \"Sit down, sit down, girl,
can\'t crane my neck looking up at you like that.\"
Thea sat down beside the old woman. She could not see
the door from here, which would serve to keep her from
glancing toward it all the time.
\"Bunch of ninnies,\" Mrs. Cliffe declared, glaring at
the rest of the room. \"All agog over seeing some lord no
better than they are, when all\'s said and done. Well, at
least you aren\'t as big a fool as the rest.\"
Thea was not sure how to respond to this halfhearted
compliment, so she merely nodded.
\"Look at my granddaughters—putting on ribbons and lace
and airs, just to meet some popinjay from London who won\'t
take a second look at them. And their silly mother
encourages them—as if some lord from London would have any
interest in a bunch of young chits who\'ve never been farther
than Cheltenham. Isn\'t as if any of them are beauties,
either. I always say, you only make yourself look foolish
acting like you\'re a diamond of the first water when anyone
can see you\'re merely paste.\" The old lady turned to Thea
and gave her a sharp nod. \"Now, you my girl, look just as
you should. Neat and no-nonsense.\"
Thea felt a sharp, familiar burn in her chest, but she
told herself not to be foolish. She could hardly fault the
Squire\'s old mother for expressing the very sentiment Thea
had used as her own watchword tonight: it was better to be
thought a dowd than a fool.
\"Course, no telling my son\'s wife that. Maribel\'s
pumped the girls\' heads so full of nonsense, they can hardly
see straight. She\'s been in a tizzy all week, half the time
up in the boughs over her catch and the other half worrying
herself to a frazzle that he won\'t come. Hah! Serve her
right if he didn\'t, for going around puffing it up to
everyone that he\'d accepted.\"
\"Still, I am sure that you would not really wish to see
her disappointed.\"
\"I wouldn\'t be too sure of that.\" The old lady slid a
dark, glittering glance at Thea, then let out a heavy sigh.
\"No, you\'re probably right. She\'d spend the next week
nattering on and on about it till I\'d have to keep to my
room just to avoid her.\"
Thea looked down at her hands to hide her smile.
\"Well, tell me, girl,\" Mrs. Cliffe went on, \"is that
sister of yours coming home for Christmas?\"
\"Oh, yes.\" Thea smiled. \"I am quite looking forward to
it. We get to see her and her children so rarely. But it is
always delightful to have all their noise and activity. It
makes the house seem truly alive and filled with the spirit
of Christmas.\"
\"That is the life of a naval wife, I fear, stuck off in
some seaport somewhere.\"
Thea did not point out that Portsmouth was hardly the
ends of the earth, saying only, \"Well, she will be here in
just a few more days, so we are happy about that.\"
\"Pretty girl, Veronica,\" the old woman mused. \"Not
surprised she made a good marriage. But I never did hold
with her having a Season and you not. I told your father so,
as well. \'Vicar,\' I said, \'you\'re slighting your youngest,
and she\'s got as much right as anyone to have a go at
catching herself a husband.\'\"
\"I was needed at home,\" Thea replied somewhat stiffly.
\"And, indeed, I had little interest in a London Season.\"
She hadn\'t wanted to have a Season; she really hadn\'t.
Thea had known as well as anyone—better, really—that she
hadn\'t the sort of looks necessary to make a splash in
London. Veronica was the acknowledged beauty of the family.
Whereas Thea\'s hair was a nondescript color, neither red nor
brown, Veronica\'s hair was a lush, deep auburn, a beautiful
contrast to her creamy white skin—which never, ever was
touched with the freckles that decorated Thea\'s cheeks if
she forgot to put on her bonnet when she went out into the
garden. And no one would compare Thea\'s solemn gray eyes,
hidden behind her spectacles, to the color of bluebells, as
more than one young swain had said about Veronica\'s eyes.
Veronica\'s form was sweetly curved and delicately feminine,
and next to her, Thea\'s tall, thin frame looked distinctly
storklike. Clearly, just as her father had decreed, it did
not make sense to spend the money on Thea\'s Season, and
anyway, her father had needed Thea to copy out his sermons
and keep the house and the vicar\'s life running smoothly.
\"Nonsense. Don\'t try to tell me you wouldn\'t have liked
to go to London. I wasn\'t born yesterday, far from it.\" Mrs.
Cliffe let out a cackle of laughter. \"But you\'re a good
daughter not to brook criticism of your father.\"
There was a rustle of movement near the door, and a
swift susurration of noise swept around the room. Thea
lifted her head, her pulse suddenly pounding in
anticipation.
\"Well?\" Mrs. Cliffe demanded. \"What\'s happened? Did he
come? Don\'t just sit there, girl. Stand up and see what\'s
going on.\"
Thea was happy to oblige. She popped to her feet, but
too many people were between her and the door to see
anything. All of the guests were shifting toward the front
of the room, their faces turned toward the door.
\"I think he must be here,\" Thea told her companion.
\"But I cannot see.\"
The elder Mrs. Cliffe grimaced and brought her cane
down with an irritated thump. \"Never mind. She\'ll bring him
over to introduce him to me—Maribel won\'t be able to resist
tweaking my nose with it. Sit down, and we\'ll pretend we
didn\'t even notice. Always better to look like you don\'t
care, I say.\"
\"Yes, ma\'am.\" Thea retook her seat. She wondered what
it said about her that she found herself in sympathy with
this crotchety old woman.
\"Tell me about this silly live Nativity that Maribel
says you\'re planning for Christmas Eve.\"
\"I think it will be quite affecting, ma\'am. St. Thomas
Church in Holstead-on-Leach did it last year, and I believe
it was very successful.\"
\"Quite chilly, I\'d say,\" Mrs. Cliffe snorted. \"Hope you
know what you\'re in for, letting my granddaughter play Mary.
Course, you had no choice there. Maribel would have hounded
you to your deathbed if her eldest weren\'t chosen.\"
Thea decided it was probably better not to comment on
that. Instead, she launched into a description of their
efforts to mount the production, knowing that the mishaps
that occurred at each rehearsal would arouse Mrs. Cliffe\'s
prickly sense of humor. As Thea talked, she kept an eye on
the room in front of her. The guests, after the initial
movement forward, began to part down the middle like water
before the prow of a ship, and before long Thea could see
the younger Mrs. Cliffe moving slowly through the room
beside a tall, dark-haired man. Two other men were with him,
but Thea noticed only the one to whom Mrs. Cliffe clung.
His hair was thick and black, swept back from a
sculpted face. His brows were as black as his hair, sharp
slashes over large, intense dark eyes. He was, as gossip had
rumored him, sinfully handsome, and his black jacket and
breeches were elegantly tailored to fit his muscular frame.
His pristine white neckcloth was tied simply and held in
place by a sapphire stickpin; he wore no other adornment
save a gold signet ring on his right hand. Tall and
broad-shouldered, he walked with the confident stride of one
who was accustomed to being the center of attention.
Gabriel Morecombe. Thea\'s heart thudded so hard she
feared it might leap right out of her chest. The blood
seemed to rush from her extremities to her center, leaving
her face pale. She tried frantically to pull her thoughts
together, to have a smooth, polite greeting ready. The group
moved slowly, Mrs. Cliffe stopping to introduce her prize to
each guest. Beside Thea, Mrs. Cliffe\'s mother-in-law rumbled
with a low laugh.
\"Wants him to get a long look at all four of the
girls—and Meg\'s just sixteen. Poor little sparrows; she\'s
got their heads stuffed full of nonsense about catching a
peacock.\"
Lord Morecombe looked, Thea thought, rather
glassy-eyed. No doubt he was stunned by the succession of
simpering Cliffe daughters—not to mention every other
halfway marriageable female in the room. The thought made
Thea chuckle, and it eased her nerves a bit. But then Mrs.
Cliffe pivoted and led him toward where Thea sat, the other
two men trailing along behind.
\"Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Robert Cliffe, my
husband\'s mother. Mother Cliffe, this is my honored guest,
Lord Morecombe. And his friends, Sir Myles Thorwood and Mr.
Alan Carmichael.\" Thea noticed that her cousin Ian had
apparently not joined the group.
Gabriel stepped forward and executed a formal bow to
the old lady. \"My pleasure, madam, though surely you must
have married very young indeed to be the Squire\'s mother.\"
Mrs. Cliffe let out a short crack of laughter. \"Ah,
you\'re a smooth-talking devil as well as a handsome one.\"
\"Mother!\" The young Mrs. Cliffe\'s face flooded with
color. She rushed on, \"And this is another of our lovely
young ladies, Miss Bainbridge.\"
Thea rose on somewhat shaky legs. \"My lord.\"
Lord Morecombe turned to her, his eyes moving over her
without interest. \"Miss Dandridge.\" He sketched a polite bow
before moving on with Mrs. Cliffe.
Morecombe\'s two companions bowed to her in turn,
greeting her by the same name. Thea nodded to them
instinctively, not really hearing them, aware of nothing but
the hard, cold knot forming in her chest.
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