Thea's Marquis Read Online Free Page A

buckskins, glossy gold-tasselled Hessians, and a bottle-green coat. Even his waistcoat was comparatively modest, grass green with a narrow gold stripe.
    “I have been woefully taken in,” Meg announced with a blithe unconcern for decorum. “Thea told me you are a Pink of the Ton, sir, but I do not consider your attire at all out of the common way.”
    Thea gasped in dismay, but both the gentlemen laughed.
    “Now that is where you are wrong. Miss Megan,” Mr. DeVine assured her. He went on to explain the importance of the cut of a coat, the tasteful choice of colours, the tying of a cravat, champagne in the boot-blacking...
    Lord Hazlewood interrupted. “Not to mention the importance of not frightening the horses. Hence, Will’s comparatively mundane dress by daylight.” He turned to Thea. “Miss Kilmore, what may I order for your breakfast?”
    When they were all seated and served, Meg, with a saucy smile, asked Mr. DeVine to explain the difference between a Bond Street beau and a pink of the ton.
    “A Bond Street beau, ma’am, is a fribble with nothing on his mind but drawing all eyes to his appearance. To this end he will employ padded shoulders, false calves, pinched-in waist, a quantity of fobs, shirt points so high he cannot turn his head, and other vulgar excesses. A pink, on the other hand, while a leader of fashion and always precise to a pin, is also a sportsman and a man of easy manners, good address, and superior understanding.”
    “Bravo, coz! You could not praise yourself more highly.”
    Mr. DeVine shook his head in mock reproach. “My cousin Roderick favours the Corinthian set,” he told the ladies mournfully.
    “What is that?” Meg enquired.
    “A sportsman, Miss Megan,” said the marquis. “A man of easy manners, good address, and superior understanding, but with no more interest in his attire than to be neatly and properly clad. However, I don’t aspire to belong to any set.”
    “Rod is a nonpareil. There is none other like him, especially in size! Miss Megan, allow me to recommend a slice of this delicious ham.”
    Lord Hazlewood asked Thea if her mother had agreed with his diagnosis of Penny’s indisposition and went on to talk of his nieces and nephews. He had a dozen or more, aged from two to twenty. She tried to guess how old he was—four or five and thirty, she thought. Though by no means ill-favoured, he was not handsome in a conventional way; rather, his good-natured, tranquil cast of countenance made him attractive.
    Nor was Mr. DeVine particularly handsome. His attraction was a lively, animated charm to which Megan’s own vivacious spirit responded, to judge by the laughter Thea heard. Gradually the laughter grew less, and, glancing at her sister, she saw her biting her lip.
    “Meg, dear, what is troubling you?”
    She tried to smile. “I am stupidly anticipating today’s journey. We...we have a long distance to travel, do we not?”
    “Surely you do not intend to try to reach London today?” protested Mr. DeVine. “I doubt we shall make it in Rod’s curricle, and he is a famous whip.”
    “Our brother is expecting us,” said Thea doubtfully.
    “If I might make a suggestion,” Lord Hazlewood said, “I should be happy to reserve rooms for you at an inn in Biggleswade, halfway to Town, and to notify your brother of the delay.”
    “Oh, sir, what a splendid notion,” cried Meg, her glow restored. “Thea, Mama will not object, will she?”
    “I doubt it, but we had best go and ask her. We shall not delay you, Lord Hazlewood. I shall let you know directly.”
    As Mr. DeVine bowed over Meg’s hand, he begged permission to call on her in Town.
    “We shall be delighted to receive you, sir,” she assured him. “We are to reside in Russell Square.” She turned to take leave of the marquis.
    Catching the look of utter consternation that crossed Will DeVine’s face, Thea flinched. Though she knew Penny’s house in Russell Square was far from the fashionable part