Rhys Denham, an Earl, is looking forward to an escape from boredom. The Grand Tour of Europe is again possible, now Boney has been locked away on Elba. This is as the author describes it, but it has been pointed out to me that not everyone may know that Boney is how the British referred to Napoleon Bonaparte, whose wars devastated the whole European continent. Rhys's childhood friend, Lady Thea Curtiss, comes secretly to his home dressed as a youth, of all scandalous behaviour.
UNLACING LADY THEA introduces this girl with three seasons behind her, of intellectual enthusiasms and average looks, who refuses to marry young men who just want her dowry. I liked the girl at once. She's determined not to obey her father and live in the country so she hopes to join Rhys, unchaperoned, as she travels to her godmother in Venice. Aged 22 she claims not to care if her name is ruined. Rhys is 28 and he agrees provided she travels incognito with her maid. He remembers Thea as a madcap, loyal, tomboy and he admits that he'd enjoy her company.
The journey is anything but easy, though luxurious for the times. Carriages, inns and boats are involved as the two friends cross lands littered with returned soldiers wearing cast-off uniforms who try to find work and repair the continent's highways. The worried maid mutters about "murdering Frenchies, sharpening the guillotine" but the innkeepers prefer to bring in money. Paris and Venice are cities returning to gaiety after the war.
Thea is a sensual young woman who has read about marriage and hopes to enjoy it someday. She has money of her own and has every intention of making a life outside the constraints of society. She wasn't expecting to fall in love with Rhys, for Rhys may be a good steward of his estates but he has a rake's reputation with women. Thea learns that being imprudent is dangerous.
I loved a previous book by author Louise Allen, Tarnished Amongst The Ton which also contained themes of travel, unconventionality and ladies of advanced ideas. This adult romance develops the characters - though we like them from the start - and brings the European settings beautifully to life. It is great fun so I highly recommend UNLACING LADY THEA.
A journey into pleasureโฆ
The night before dissolute Lord Denham is about to embark on
his grand tour, he meets an unexpected complication. In
boy's clothes that barely conceal her delectable curves, his
childhood friend Lady Althea Curtissโdesperate to escape an
arranged marriageโarrives, demanding free passage!
Rhys accepts his unlikely traveling companion with great
reluctanceโthe scandal is sure to blow up in his faceโuntil
he finds there is far more intimate territory Lady Thea is
curious to explore. Soon he realizes that he is in danger of
awakening not only Thea's sensuality, but also his own
long-buried heartโฆ.
EXCERPT
London. 3rd June 1814
The skeleton clock on the over-mantle struck four. No point
in going to bed. Besides,
he was thoroughly foxed, although not drunk enough to keep
him from lying awake
wondering what had possessed him to make this insane plan.
And worse, to follow
through with organisation so ruthlessly efficient that to
cancel now would throw his
entire staff, financial team, estate management and social
life into disorder โ and
make it seem he did not know his own mind.
โWhich I do not,โ Rhys Denham informed the ragged-eared
ginger tom that sat
on the hearthrug eyeing him with the distain that only a
feline or a dowager duchess
could muster. โKnow my own mind, that is. Always do, just
not this time.โ
The appearance of the kitchen mouser on the principal floor,
let alone in the
study of the third Earl of Palgrave, was unheard of. The
household must be stirring
already and be too distracted by their masterโs imminent
departure for the continent
to notice an open door at the head of the servantsโ stair.
โIt seemed a good plan at the time,โ Rhys mused. The brandy
at the bottom of
the glass glowed in the candlelight and he splashed in more
and tossed the lot
back. โIโm drunk. Havenโt been this drunk in years.โ Not
since he had woken up one
afternoon and realised that drink was never going to blot
out the disaster of his
wedding day, restore his faith in friendship or his
delusions about romantic love.
The cat switched its attention to the plate with the remains
of the cold beef,
cheese and bread that had left out with the decanters. โAnd
you can stop licking
your whiskers.โ Rhys reached for the food. โI need this more
than you do. I have to
be more or less sober in three hours.โ That seemed
improbable, even to his fogged
brain.
โYou have to admit I deserve a holiday. The estate is in
order, my finances
could hardly be better, I am bored to the back teeth with
Town and Bonaparte has
been out of harmโs way on Elba for a month,โ he informed the
cat around a mouthful
of beef. โYou think I am a trifle old for the Grand Tour? I
disagree. At twenty eight I
will appreciate things more.โ The cat sneered, lifted one
hind leg and began to groom
itself intimately.
โStop that. A gentleman does not wash his balls in the
study.โ He tossed it a
scrap of fat and the cat pounced. โBut a year? What was I
thinking of?โ Escape.
Of course, he could come back at any time and his staff
would adjust to his
demands with their usual smooth efficiency. After all, if
there was some kind of
crisis, he would return immediately. But to cancel on a whim
was not responsible
behaviour. It put people out, it let them down, and Rhys
Denham despised people
who let others down.
โNo, I am going to go through with this,โ he declared. โIt
will do me good
to have a compete change of scene and then Iโll be in the
mood to find a pretty,
modest, well-bred girl with a stay-at-home temperament and
good child-bearing
hips. I will be married by the time I am thirty.โ And bored
out of my skull. A vision of
the succession of prime bits of muslin who had worked their
magic in preventing
just such boredom flitted across his memory. They had never
expected dutiful
monogamy. A wife would. Rhys sighed.
The friends who had deposited him on his doorstep an hour
ago after a
convivial farewell night at the club were all married, or
about to be. Some even had
children. And, to a man, they seemed cheered by the thought
of someone else falling
into parsonโs mousetrap. As Fred Herrick put it, โAbout time
a rake like you stops
nibbling the cheese, takes a proper bite at it and springs
the trap, Denham.โ
โAnd why is that such a damnably depressing thought?โ
โI could not say, my lord.โ Griffin stood in the doorway,
his face set in the
expressionless mask that signified deep disapproval.
What the devil had his butler got to be disapproving about?
Rhys levered
himself upright in his chair. A man was entitled to be in
his cups in his own house,
damn it. โI was speaking to the cat, Griffin.โ
โIf you say so, my lord.โ
Rhys glanced down at the rug. The ginger beast had vanished
leaving behind
it only a faint grease stain on the silk pile.
โThere is a person to see you, my lord.โ From his tone this
was the cause of
the stone face, not his masterโs maudlin conversations with
an invisible cat.
โWhat kind of person?โ
โA young person, my lord.โ
โA boy? I am not up to guessing games just at the moment,
Griffin.โ
โAs you say, my lord. It appears to be a youth. Beyond that
I am not prepared
to commit myself.โ
Appears? Does Griffin mean what I think he means? โWell,
where is itโฆ him?โ
Her? โBelow stairs?โ
โIn the small reception room. It came to the front door,
refused to go down to
the tradesmanโs entrance and said it was certain your
lordship would wish to see it.โ
Rhys blinked at the decanter. How much had he drunk since he
got back
from Whiteโs? A lot, yes, but surely not enough to have
imagined that faint hint of
desperation in Griffinโs voice. The man was capable of
dealing with anything without
turning a hair, whether it was pilfering footmen or furious
discarded mistresses
throwing the china.
A faint trickle of unease ran down his spine. Mistresses.
Had Georgina failed
to take her congรฉ as calmly as she had appeared to do
yesterday? Surely she was
satisfied with a very nice diamond necklace and the lease on
her little house for a
further year? Rhys got to his feet, tugged off his already
loosened neckcloth and
left his coat where it was on the sofa. Ridiculous. He might
seek pleasure without
emotional entanglement, but he was no Lord Byron with
hysterical females dressed
as boys dogging his footsteps. He was careful to stick to
professionals and fast
married women who knew what they were about, not single
ladies and certainly not
unstable cross-dressing ones.
โVery well, let us see this mysterious youth.โ His feet
seemed to be obeying
him, which was gratifying, considering the way the furniture
swayed as Griffin
preceded him down the hallway. Tomorrow โ no, this morning โ
promised a
hangover of monumental proportions.
Griffin opened the door to the room reserved for visitors
who did not meet his
exacting standards for admission to the Chinese Drawing
Room. The figure seated
on a hard chair against the far wall came to its feet.
Short, bundled into an ill-fitting
dark suit of clothes that said junior clerk to Rhysโs
unfocussed eye, it had a pair of
portmanteaux at its feet and a battered beaver hat on the
chair by its side.
Rhys blinked. He wasnโt that drunk. โGriffin, if that is
male, then you and I are
eunuchs in the Great Chanโs court.โ
The girl in the youthโs clothes gave an exasperated sigh,
set her fists on the
curving hips that betrayed her sex and said, โRhys Denham,
you are drunk โ just
when I was counting on you to be reliable.โ
Thea? Lady Althea Curtiss, daughter of the Earl of
Wellingstone by his
scandalous first wife, the plain little brat who had dogged
his heels throughout his
boyhood, the loyal friend he had scarcely seen since the day
his world fell apart.
Here, in the early hours of the morning in his bachelor
household, dressed as a boy.
A walking scandal waiting to explode like a smouldering
shell. He could almost hear
the fuse fizzing.
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