Thea's Marquis Read Online Free

He seemed larger than she remembered him, a solid, reliable figure in his dark blue coat, buckskin breeches, and top-boots. “Is something amiss?”
    “Penny—Lady Kilmore—my sister-in-law is horridly queasy this morning. I am afraid something may be seriously wrong.”
    “I doubt it.” His calm soothed her. “Nausea is not uncommon in Lady Kilmore’s condition. Every one of my sisters has suffered the same distressing symptoms, without ever a serious problem. I daresay your mama will tell you there is no cause for alarm.”
    “Do you think so? Mama will know, of course, for she takes care of our tenants and neighbours when they are ill. Megan often goes with her, but I can never think what to say to them,” she confided.
    “Visiting invalids can be an ordeal.” He smiled down at her, and she suddenly recalled that she was dressed only in her nightgown and wrap, her feet bare on the polished boards.
    “I must go,” she blurted out, and fled into the chamber.
    Her mother turned from the bedside. “It is only morning sickness,” she said.
    “Only!” Penny wailed, huddled in misery over the basin.
    “You will feel better presently, my dear. Meg, open the window, if you please. Fresh air will help, as will peace and quiet. Thea, pray get dressed. Go down with Meg and order weak tea and dry toast to be sent up for Penny.”
    As Thea dressed, the sound of voices floated up from the courtyard below the window. She thought she recognized Lord Hazlewood’s and could not decide whether she hoped he was departing or not. Every time she saw him, she made a cake of herself, yet he set her at ease in a way she had rarely experienced.
    She was pinning up her hair when Meg answered a knock on the door and found a waiter there with a tray.
    “Lord Hazlewood’s compliments, miss. Tea an’ toast for Lady Kilmore.”
    Meg took the tray with an exclamation. “How did he know?”
    “I told him Penny is unwell,” said Thea guiltily. “He has several sisters, so morning sickness is no mystery to him. Come, Meg, I am ready. Let us go out to the garden for a few minutes.”
    She pulled her sister out the door before her mother had a chance to bemoan her latest misdeed.
    “Yet again, your marquis gallops to the rescue,” Meg murmured. “A modern knight in shining armour, providing tea and toast instead of the heads of dragons and ogres.”
    “More practical, and much more agreeable,” Thea pointed out.
    Despite the season, the walled garden behind the inn was pleasant in the morning sun. Meg rhapsodized over autumn crocuses and spicy-scented chrysanthemums. A bed of Michaelmas daisies reminded Thea of Mr. DeVine’s waistcoat and, discovering that Meg had been in no state last night to notice it, she described his resplendent attire.
    “He claimed to be a pink of the ton,” she said, “but Lord Hazlewood called him a Bond Street beau and a coxcomb.”
    Meg giggled. “Is not a coxcomb a vain braggart? What precisely do the other epithets signify?”
    “I don’t know, and I did not like to ask.”
    “I daresay he is bang up to the nines,” said Meg, startling her sister with language she must have learned from Jason and upon which Mama would undoubtedly frown.
    At that moment a window opened near where they were strolling and the Bond Street beau himself leaned out. “Miss Kilmore, shall you join us for breakfast?” he called.
    While Thea hesitated, Meg responded gaily, “Certainly, sir, at once,” and tugged her towards the nearest door.
    “I suspect we ought not,” Thea objected in a low voice. “Mama did not actually accept the invitation, and she is not here to chaperon us.”
    “You are sufficient chaperon for me, and I have had quite enough of my chamber.”
    The coffee-room was a still less desirable alternative, Thea had to admit, and she was old enough to chaperon her sister. They joined the gentlemen in their parlour.
    Curtsying, Megan openly studied Mr. DeVine. Today he was more soberly clad, in