“I assure you, they are fine,” Rafe replied. “In autumn, they roll in the warm mud at the bottom of the lake. Then they happily hibernate like bears until spring.”
“Wonderful. I was so worried about them.” She turned. “Charlie!” she screamed and Rafe winced. She ran back to the crowd, yelling, “Uncle Lucky says the crocodiles are warm and happy!”
Rafe caught Thea’s look. “What? I was educating her. That’s what we’re meant to do with children, isn’t it? Educate them?”
Laughing, Thea took his hand, and together they ran through the snow to the lake’s edge, where they helped each other put on their skates. Hand in hand, they slid and circled over the ice, more or less making their way toward a cozy cabin at the far end, which Thea had prepared as Rafe’s secret hideaway, should his extended family threaten to overwhelm.
“I have received news from London,” Rafe said. “Lord Ventnor and Percy Russell have gone.”
“Gone where?”
“An informal ducal inquiry revealed that Lord Ventnor was living beyond his means. Most of his investments failed, and what with keeping up appearances, he fell into severe debt. His solution was to help himself to the Treasury purse.”
Thea’s jaw dropped. “He was stealing from the government?”
“Depends whom you ask. Ventnor insists he was merely taking his due for his invaluable services. Everyone else calls it stealing.”
“What will happen to him? The Crown won’t seize his property or title? What about Helen and Beau?”
“His property and title remain intact. However, after some negotiations, Lord Ventnor accepted a position as governor of the colony of New Wessex. It is situated some four hundred miles west of Sydney Cove, the main center in the colony of New South Wales. Percy will accompany him, as he dare not show his face in society. Or his buttocks, for that matter. Ventnor has been instructed that he may not return to Britain until his colony generates enough money to replace the funds that he misappropriated.”
Thea skidded to a halt, aghast. “How can you smile? After all he did, he gets rewarded with the governorship of a colony where he can make money?” She snorted. “What a very imperial solution: ‘By George, this man is good at stealing. Send him off to steal more land for us!’ I suppose he’ll end up filthy rich as governor of this colony of… Where did you say?”
“New Wessex.”
She nodded knowledgeably. “New Wessex. Yes. I see. Right.”
“Have you ever heard of New Wessex, Countess?”
“You mentioned it just now.” She glared at him. “Oh, very well. I confess I have never heard of New Wessex.”
“No one has. It doesn’t exist.”
Thea looked at him sharply. “Then what lies four hundred miles west of Sydney Cove?”
“We don’t know. No Englishman has yet ventured that far inland.”
“But he…” A slow smile spread over her face. “No! Really?”
“Ventnor and Percy will spend six months sailing to the other side of the world, where they will land at Sydney Cove and inform Governor Macquarie that he, Ventnor, is the new governor of—”
“—Of a place that does not exist!” She laughed. “And Governor Ventnor may not return until he makes money from this place that does not exist. You did this?”
“As you requested: You said you wanted him to rot on the other side of the world. Although given how hot it gets in the penal colonies, he may well roast, rather than rot.”
“Then they are gone, and we can forget all about them.”
“I already have.” Rafe skated in a slow circle around her. “I would much rather think about you, for I intend to take you into that cabin, where it is warm and cozy, and spend the rest of the day making love to you.”
“Perhaps you will. But first…” She slid out of his reach, teasing him with her playful, enticing smile. “First you will have to catch me.”
Thea winked, spun around on the ice, and skated away.
Rafe forced himself to wait, watching her skirts swirl around her. Love and desire filled him, leaving little room for air. He would need air, he reminded himself, for what came next.
So he breathed all the way in, and all the way out.
Then, smiling, he gave chase.