“Cressida?” Harriet’s concerned voice seemed to come from very far away. “What’s wrong?”
Everything, Cressida thought as Theodore’s gaze held hers.Absolutely everything.
“I owe you a considerable debt, my friend.” John’s voice pulled Theodore from his observation of Cressida across the ballroom.
The Marquess had appeared at his elbow with characteristic good humor, two glasses of champagne in hand, one of which he pressed into Theodore’s reluctant grip.
“I merely suggested a course of action,” Theodore replied, his tone deliberately flat. “You made your own choice.”
“A choice I thank God for daily.” John’s expression transformed, warmth suffusing features that had once been hardened by dissipation and aimless excess. “Harriet is…” he trailed off, apparently unable to find adequate words. “I’ve never been happier, Theodore. Never imagined I could be.”
Theodore forced his attention back to his friend, genuine pleasure cutting through his own turmoil. “I’m glad to see it worked out well.”
“Worked out well?” John laughed. “That’s rather like saying the sun provides adequate illumination. She’s extraordinary. Clever, witty, utterly captivating when she forgets to be reserved.” His gaze drifted toward his wife with undisguised adoration. “I was a fool to think marriage would be merely duty and obligation. It’s?—”
“I understand,” Theodore interrupted, unwilling to hear more testimonials to matrimonial bliss when his own situation felt increasingly impossible.
John’s eyes narrowed with sudden focus. “Do you? Because you’ve been staring at Lady Cressida rather intently since you arrived. In fact, you haven’t looked at anything else.”
Theodore’s jaw tightened. “You’re mistaken.”
“Am I?” His friend’s tone suggested he found this highly unlikely. “Because I’ve counted at least seven occasions in the past five minutes where you’ve tracked her movements across the room like a hound on the scent.”
Theodore thought of the whiff of lavender and warm skin, and scowled. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Theodore.” John shifted to block his view of Cressida entirely, forcing eye contact. “I’ve known you since we were boys at Eton. I’ve seen you face down creditors, navigate political intrigue, and maintain perfect composure through situations that would break lesser men. I have never, not once, seen you look at a woman the way you’re looking at Lady Cressida right now.”
Heat crawled up Theodore’s neck, a reaction he despised. “There’s nothing?—”
“Is she the reason you left my wedding early?” John’s voice had dropped, genuine concern replacing teasing. “The ‘urgent estate matter’ you mentioned?”
Theodore said nothing, which was apparently answer enough.
“Good God.” John’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
“Nothing too concerning.” The words emerged too quickly, too defensive.
“Clearly, it concerns someone.” John glanced toward Cressida again, then back at him with dawning comprehension. “She was at the church, wasn’t she? That commotion outside just before the ceremony, that was her?”
Theodore’s silence confirmed it.
“And you…” John’s expression shifted through several emotions before settling on something between amusement and alarm. “You stopped her. Then what?” At Theodore’s minute flinch, he whistled low, already putting two and two together. “How very unlike you to behave recklessly.”
“It wasn’t reckless. It was necessary, and you’re very much welcome, you cur.” Theodore finally met his friend’s gaze. “And it’s over now. She’s engaged to Emerton, and I have no intention of?—”
“Of what? Pursuing something that clearly matters to you?” John’s voice softened. “Theodore, I spent years running from anything real, and it nearly destroyed me. Don’t make the same mistake.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” John asked quietly. “You’re terrified. I recognize the look.”
Across the ballroom, Cressida laughed at something Harriet said, and Theodore felt the sound in his chest like a physical blow.
“Leave it alone, John,” he said finally.
But his friend’s knowing expression suggested this conversation was far from over.
“But how did you come to be engaged to Lord Emerton?” Harriet’s brow creased with concern. “I thought you were at your aunt’s. When did?—”
