Chapter Seventeen
“You are ‘not’to spend the night,” Duncan emphasized. “Nor are you to…”
“I would not,” Alexander declared as he turned blood red in embarrassment.
Duncan continued his warning. “I was once a young man who desired a comely woman. You and I have both repeatedly set Theodora’s wishes and needs aside. We must tread carefully, or we could destroy her. I expect you to sleep at Dutton Hall tonight.”
Alexander turned another shade of red, but, in many ways, he appreciated Duncan’s caution. At least they agreed on how they would proceed with Theodora. At the top of the stairs they separated, though Duncan’s quarters were three doors removed from Dora’s.
Alexander waited until Duncan entered his suite before Xander slipped into the servants’ passage. In his opinion, there was not a chance in a fiery hell that Theodora would admit him through the main door to her suite. Though he felt bad about lying to Duncan, Alexander and Theodora had recently permitted their ardor to go too far, though not as far as it could have gone.
He paused outside the servants’ door to Theodora’s quarters. All he had to do was knock and enter immediately, before Dora could send him away. He still did not know what he would say to her, and so, he paused with his hand in the air to compose his thoughts and consider the first words that should come from his lips. “Just be about it, Marksman,” he chastised himself softly. “No emotional outbursts!No pleading for a kiss, which, generally, leads to another kiss and then another.” He took a deep breath. “You can do this. Theodora is worth every second of your misery.
“All you must execute is to deny yourself any opportunity to touch her, even if you have never been able to be so self-disciplined as to perform thusly previously.” He dropped his hand to his side. He did not want to be standing outside Dora’s door with a necessary apology on his lips. He should not have failed her, for she, assuredly, had never failed him.
Unexpectedly, the servant door opened, and Winston chirped in surprise. “My lord,” the maid said while recovering her composure.
“Winston!” he repeated as he stepped around the woman.
The maid turned to her mistress. “Should I remain, my lady?”
“Yes,” Theodora said.
“No!” Alexander overrode Dora’s order. “Your father knows I am here,” he provided.
“Does he now?” Theodora challenged. “It is quite magnificent to know the men in my life still believe me incompetent to make choices.”
No doubt the whole household would soon know he had made a late evening appearance in Theodora’s private chamber. “My purpose is not what you think.”
“Of course it is not,” Dora said sarcastically. “If every time you called upon me was what people thought,” she said boldly, “we would have a half dozen children by now.”
“The idea of having children with you, Dora, does not frighten me as you suppose it would,” he countered.
Theodora released her breath on a rough exhale. “Why are you here, my lord?”
“I came to tell you I have claimed the offer from Mrs. Dove-Lyon to court you,” he stated in firm tones.
“Why?” she whispered into the silence which had fallen between them.
Behind him, Alexander knew Winston had slipped from the room and closed the door as she exited.
Theodora knew shehad but two choices: She could swallow a large dollop of pride and rush into his arms, or she could continue her contrary complaints. Her anger won out. Employing irritation would prevent her from doing something she would later regret.
“Should we sit and discuss our future sensibly?” Alexander gestured to the small sitting area where Theodora had claimed her meals since the incident in West Hampshire.
She shook off the idea. “I ask again, why are you here?”
“Quite simple,” he said. “I have missed you terribly.”
“Does not your sister hang on your every word?” she asked tartly. “You do not require my adoration any longer.”
“I admit to being excessively worried for Annalise. She has chosen to remain in Moreau’s household when the man returns to England tomorrow. She is in danger, and I cannot help but be concerned. However, such does not mean I do not equally worry over your recovery.”
“I am not recovering,” she said contentiously.
“Then what are you doing, Dora?” he asked.
“What I am expected to do. As an earl’s daughter, I am to be docile and obedient.”
