Hart grinned at her then took a seat. Tension filled the air. To lighten it, she tilted her head and said, "At times you are a charming young boy, Hart, and what woman can resist such appeal?"
"I hope you will soon come around to my way of thinking. But so far, you have been able to do so."
"So far," she agreed dryly.
Hartingfield grinned wickedly. "Are you issuing a challenge?" He rose from his chair, knelt beside her, then swiftly claimed a kiss.
Thea pulled away as if stung.
"No more breakfast?" he asked.
Thea bent forward to pick up her shawl, then wrapped it about her shoulders. "I don't know you well, Hart, but I well know of your reputation as a rake."
"I feel I know you well already." Hart's eyes twinkled as he added, "But I look forward to becoming better acquainted."
"May I have your word this will not happen again?" She meant no more stolen kisses and he knew it.
"The word of a rake, Thea?"
She nodded.
"Very well. You have my word that while we are en route to London, I will not attempt to claim another kiss."
"And afterwards," was her curt rejoinder.
"No." Hart shook his head. "I give you the pledge that I can. After we leave this place, you will have to look after your own interests, for I cannot promise further."
"Well, if you want my company you will need to make the attempt, m'lord."
He turned away to hide his self-disgust that he wasn't able to offer the promise she asked of him. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was nothing more than a rake.
"And, Hart?" Thea asked.
"Hmm?"
"I very much enjoyed breakfast."
She had done it to him again.
*
As the day progressed, only the thought of reaching London the following day kept Thea from leaping from the carriage. Hartingfield winked and blew mock kisses at her in a most annoying manner whenever he thought Emma and Mrs. Wiggins weren't looking. He wasn't always successful at hiding it, though. At one point, Emma had broken into giggles and only a stern look from Thea had silenced her.
That night, Hartingfield arranged for their supper in a private parlor. But this time, she made certain to have both Emma and Mrs. Wiggins beside her when she entered the room.
Hartingfield had been busy. The furniture had obviously been rearranged to provide a cozy dinner table in front of a gently smoldering fire. The only other light was provided by the lone branch of candles decorating the table. When Hart caught her eye and gave her a soulful look, she found herself backing out of the room.
"Good evening, ladies. I took the liberty of ordering dinner." Hart stepped forward to drag her by the arm and led her to a chair. "I hope you will be pleased with what I selected, although I fear our host's cook will not be up to Steyne Hall's standards."
As he seated her, his hand softly grazed her arm in a lover-like gesture. Thea stiffened and pulled away. "Thank you." She heard him chuckle as he circled the table to seat the others.
Both Mrs. Wiggins and Thea's friend, soon to be her former friend if she did not stop encouraging Hart, smiled at him as if enraptured. Thea glared at Emma, who immediately removed all expression from her face. As Miss Mimms had often said, rakes could be most charming. She watched in disdain as Hart charmed both her companions. How could he? And how could they?
After taking a chair beside Thea, Hart reached out to a side table and lifted a bottle.
She watched as he filled their glasses and handed one to each of them. He raised his goblet and took a sip.
"It's a pity." Hartingfield grimaced.
"Has it turned sour?" asked Mrs. Wiggins.
Hart shook his head.
"Is it a poor vintage, Lord Hartingfield?" asked Emma, looking down at her goblet as if it contained dirty water.
Again he shook his head. Then he gazed directly at Thea and said, "It is a pity that no nectar can be as sweet as you."
Mrs. Wiggins gasped and Emma chortled with glee.
Thea couldn't believe he would do this to her. Had he no shame? It was bad enough