A Compromised Lady by Elizabeth Rolls

when Max asked, because deep down he had known that.
    ‘And you?’ he asked. ‘What have your days held?’ Too late he remembered that the question might be unwelcome, but it was gone now, and could no more be recalled than a loosed arrow.
    Only in the tightening of her mouth did he see the question strike home. She didn’t look up from the board, but said at last, ‘Very little. After…after I was considered out of mourning I remained with Aunt Maria. She…she required a companion, and since I had—have—no wish to marry, it seemed the logical thing.’ She moved her knight.
    He didn’t know what to say. She had said that yesterday—that she did not wish to marry. But surely…
    ‘My brother thought that he would never marry,’ he said. ‘And I doubt that he has ever been happier than he is now.’

    She did look up at that. ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘Tell me about your sister-in-law. She is…expecting a baby, is she not?’
    He heard the faint hesitation and ached. Was that something she had wanted, and thought now was for ever lost to her? Nevertheless, she had changed the subject, and he could only respect that. So he made his countermove, and told her a little about Max and Verity, that the baby was nearly due, and that Max was terrified. Far more so than Verity herself.
    Thea did not look up again, but surveyed the board, apparently concentrating, soft pink lips very slightly pursed. But her hands, resting in her lap, shifted continually, fiddling with her cuffs, turning a small turquoise ring on her little finger.
    He should be concentrating himself, predicting her likely move and its consequences. He knew what he wanted her to do, what nine people out of ten would do at this point. Only it seemed unimportant, compared to the stray curl escaping to tickle her face and make her frown. She pushed it back and his own fingers itched to capture the wisp and tuck it in safely. Or to release a few more of her softly curling tresses to twine about his fingers. He leaned forwards…
    She glanced up, pushing the errant wisp out of her eyes yet again. Their eyes met, his suddenly narrowed, intent; hers wide and startled. Reality reined in his half-formed desire. What in Hades had come over him? He needed to conduct this courtship logically…and playing chess was a very rational and logical thing to do.
    Dazed, he realised that in the space of two hours he’d gone from considering the possibility of a match to courtship. Thea had loved once, and was disinclined to give her heart again. Would she perhaps consider a marriage based on friendship? Mutual interests and understanding? Would that be enough for her?
    She reached out and he watched, fascinated, as the slender, graceful fingers hovered over her knight. He rather thought she had seen his little trap. And the next question occurred to him: would such a marriage be enough for him?
    The door opened.
    ‘Mr Winslow,’ announced Myles.
    ‘David!’ cried Thea as her brother stalked in.
    Richard looked up. Winslow’s eyes glinted gun metal as he took in the scene.
    ‘Good afternoon, Winslow.’ For a moment the quiet greeting hung there and then David Winslow seemed to relax infinitesimally.
    ‘Blakehurst.’ A rather reluctant smile curved his mouth. ‘I remember that you were fond of chess.
    Am I interrupting?’
    Thea glanced back at him questioningly.
    ‘Yes. You are,’ said Richard blandly. ‘You will have to wait about three seconds for your sister.’ He shot Thea a grin. ‘It will take her about that long to mop up my king.’

    Thea chuckled, an unshadowed ripple of delight that sent streamers of pleasure curling through him. A sudden movement caught his attention. About to seat himself on the sofa, David Winslow’s head had jerked up, his gaze fixed on his sister, as though he had only just seen her. Startled grey eyes flickered to Richard, and then back to Thea in wonder and speculation.
    ‘Don’t let me disturb you,’ he said with an