An Improper Arrangement

God help her. God help me. God help us both…

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_cb339f40-7ee9-5c90-9134-0ebb4eee14f4)

THEA HAD BEEN drawn to the walkway overlooking the aviary after the duchess retired to the duke’s apartments following evening prayers, thinking it a good place to be alone with her thoughts.

It was a pity she couldn’t seem to muster any of other than dubious merit.

What an odd interlude it had been, driving out with Gabriel Sinclair. She didn’t believe she could recall any time in her life she’d been so irritatingly aware of someone.

When his hand had accidently brushed against hers, she’d actually been hard-pressed not to shiver, and definitely not in revulsion. She could think him a hardened seducer, if it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t seemed to notice her reaction. No, she certainly couldn’t relax when around the man, not for a moment. Succumbing even slightly to the odd charms of the duchess’s grandnephew definitely held no part in her plans.

She’d wanted to. His occasional smile and pleasantly handsome face encouraged her to let down her guard, be herself and simply enjoy his company.

Much as he apparently did not enjoy hers.

He’d been polite, when he remembered, but for the most part seemed to be a man with a great deal on his mind, none of it pleasant to contemplate.

She shouldn’t be surprised he wasn’t doing handsprings of joy at the idea of being her chaperone, the one her suitors—if there were any—would come to asking permission to court her. Which was also odd, since if ever there was a man who wanted to be shed of a woman, that man and woman were he and the seeming albatross now hanging around his neck.

The duchess had been so encouraging, going on endlessly this afternoon about her marvelous grandnephew and his eagerness to be in on their rather slapdash scheme. Indeed, the woman obviously spied no flies in the ointment she’d mixed up in the laboratory of her mind. She’d get some of her own back (and her husband back), Thea’s mother would get some of her own back, and all without anyone really knowing. Except for their combined target, who would know there was a loaded pistol of sorts aimed at his reputation.

Thea considered her position—that of being the loaded pistol. The duchess believed Thea was involved for two reasons: to make her mother happy and to catch herself a rich English husband. Her mother believed she had agreed in order to help the duchess, who was providing her daughter with the opportunity to live out her mother’s dreams for her.

Nobody had actually asked her why she’d uncomplainingly gone along with their plans. Although they probably should have, especially her mother, who certainly couldn’t raise her chin proudly and state, “My daughter is a most biddable and cooperative young lady.”

Because I have plans of my own.

Then she wondered what and who Gabriel Sinclair thought she was. Clearly he didn’t consider her an unexpected ray of sunshine dropped into his humdrum life.

She heard the door open and close, heard the footsteps but didn’t move from her position, her forearms on the thick railing of the intricately carved banister as she leaned forward, pretending to get a better look at the strange wonderfulness below her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such vibrant colors,” she said, at last turning her head as Gabriel Sinclair stopped beside her. “Some of them simply don’t look real, do they? I’ve seen green parrots, of course, but nothing like this. I hope there are books in the library, and I can learn more about them.”

He likewise rested his forearms against the railing, not five feet away from her. As if they were old acquaintances, which they most certainly were not. Yet she did feel comfortable with him much of the time, perhaps because he was good to his aunt. “They’re loud. They smell. What else is there to learn?”

“You don’t like them,” she said.

“I have nothing against them, other than their current location. Do you know what we’re standing on, Miss Neville?”

“I assume a part of the staircase, although I can’t quite work the logistics out in my head.”

“Not a staircase, Miss Neville. We’re standing on a part of the staircase. Not quite one of the seven wonders of the ancient world but equally as lost, at least for now. Imagine if you will those walls on either side of us gone, the doors removed.”

“I wouldn’t want to say it, but those walls do appear, um, hastily constructed.”

“Yes, and that’s being kind. In the duke’s defense—not that he has any—there was some urgency with the construction, for matters of containment, you understand. In any event, imagine if you can those walls gone, the stairs hidden behind those walls once again revealed in all their glory.”

Thea closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again, to see him watching her closely, almost as if taking inventory of her features. She’d already taken an inventory of his: soft dark brown hair with a slight widow’s peak and golden highlights in the sunlight, eyes the color of a summer sky, remarkably straight nose, firm chin. He wasn’t classically handsome. He was…approachably handsome.

Stop this! You’re supposed to be thinking about staircases!

“All right, yes,” she said quickly, “I’m imagining. In truth, I don’t have to imagine it. I’ve seen several similar constructions in Virginia. Americans don’t all reside in log cabins at the edge of some wilderness, you know.”

He cocked one eyebrow at her, his expression amused. “Point taken, and I suppose I’ll attempt to let the baronet down easily when I explain there probably isn’t a large feather headdress still packed up in my aunt’s traveling trunks. What, no smile? You’re not amused? Very well, we’ll go back to imagining.”

“Please do,” Thea said, stepping back from the railing. She was beginning to feel too comfortable sparring with the man, and much too aware of his close proximity.

Gabriel stepped back, as well, and spread his arms, as if to encompass the hidden staircases to his right and left. “Oh, yes, I forgot something, didn’t I? Not just those walls on either side in front of us, but also the ones behind you that, yes, conceal matching staircases. Rather like an enormous hourglass, with its top and bottom gone and a bar making up its middle. Now imagine the staircases, along with this section we’re currently occupying—the bar—floating in place, without any obvious support.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Floating? But…but that’s impossible. Floating?”

“I wish you could see it. The only such construction in England, possibly in the world. Unless it’s taken apart—something the duke considered, mind you—as we’ll never know how it was accomplished. As the legend has it, the architect burned all his notes and plans and then threw himself from this very spot, believing he’d never be able to construct anything else to top his creation. Climbed up on the railing, put his arms above his head and launched himself into the air. Unfortunately, unlike our chattering friends down there, he didn’t sprout wings until after he’d hit the floor.”

Thea looked at the railing, then prudently stepped a few feet from the rail. “He jumped? From this very spot?”

Gabriel threw back his head and laughed, and she immediately felt silly. “It’s a hum, isn’t it? Everything you told me is a huge hum. You’re evil.”

“You’re much kinder than the baronet,” he told her, taking her arm and leading her toward the end of the freestanding balcony. “He didn’t figure it out until I told him about how the architect haunts the place, flying through the halls and warning, ‘I’ll never tell—I’ll never tell!’”

Thea attempted, and failed, to contain her smile. “I shouldn’t find that amusing.”

“Ah, but you do. It’s part of my duties as your chaperone to amuse you. Shall I show you the gardens now?”

“As long as there aren’t banshees in the yew hedge, I suppose so.” She kept her arm through his as they made their way down the long curving and enclosed staircase—one of the two that led toward the rear of the estate house—and out through the French doors. “At least these match the front doorway. The duke wasn’t slapdash in every alteration.”

He offered his arm once more as they negotiated the stone steps leading down into the gardens.

“And you think we all should be grateful for small mercies, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, no. What do you plan to do with the aviary once you’re duke? Break the duchess’s heart by tearing it all down? Shunting all of those lovely birds into tiny cages and leaving them to…molt?”

He led her to a bench and they sat down, just out of sight of the rear of the mansion.

“Ah, you recognize my dilemma. My only hope lies in the duke living at least another twenty years while I continue to occupy my smaller but rather pleasant estate not five miles from here.”

Thea felt for the man; she really did.

“Shame, then, that he’s locked himself away upstairs, dying.”

“We always add again. He’s dying again.”

“Pardon my lapse. The question, however, remains. As the duchess and I will be removing to London shortly, to allow me to practice my feminine wiles before my official come-out in the spring, I don’t see a good ending for any of us, do you? Not with the duchess in mourning and you taking up residence here. I’ve heard the expression going to the dogs, but you’ll be going to the birds.”

“Is everyone in America quite so blunt?”

“I can’t speak for America, sir. But I do believe in speaking for myself. The duchess wants you to be my chaperone in London, and you’ve agreed, even as you’d rather poke a stick in your eye. Do you perceive me to be that much of a challenge? The duchess has already informed me my wardrobe is sadly out of date.”

Gabriel looked at her chest. He really looked at it, making Thea more than a little self-conscious. “What is that thing, anyway?”