Wesley moved past her to the sideboard and poured a brandy.He drank half of it before answering.“Thea and I had a disagreement.”
“About what?”
He stared at the amber liquid in his glass.He couldn't tell her the truth.Not the full truth, anyway.His mother would suffer from apoplexy.
“She's been reckless.”He kept his voice controlled.“She's been engaging in behavior that is ...inappropriate for a future duchess.And that’s all I’m going to say.”
His mother's expression shifted.If he thought she might have held any concern for Thea’s well-being, he’d be disappointed.She showed pure satisfaction, and he fisted his hands at his side.
“What sort of behavior?”
“It doesn't matter what sort.”He clenched and unclenched his fists.“What matters is that I have addressed it.”
“I see.”His mother settled back into her chair with the air of a woman whose suspicions had been confirmed.“I can't say I'm surprised, Wesley.I've held my tongue because you seemed so set on this match, but now this.That girl has always been headstrong.Her mother has never been able to manage her.”
“Mother—” It was one thing for him to have thoughts on the matter, but quite another for his mother to disparage the woman he loved.He couldn’t deny that he loved her.
“I don't say it to be unkind.The girl has her charms.But a duchess needs discipline.She needs to understand that her conduct reflects on the whole of society.”His mother folded her hands in her lap.“Lady Caroline would never put you in this position.She understands what is expected.She was raised to understand it.”
Wesley said nothing.He stood at the sideboard with his back to his mother and listened to her describe the kind of wife he should want—quiet, compliant, one who knew her place and never tested the boundaries of it.
“Theodora has always been too independent for her own good,” his mother continued.“Even as a girl, she was wild.Do you remember that house party at the Pembrokes' when she was—oh, thirteen or fourteen?She bullied her way into the card game with you and the other boys.Her dear mother was mortified.I remember thinking then that the girl would be trouble.”
Wesley's hand stilled on his glass.He remembered.Not the way his mother did.He had been around sixteen then.She had planted herself in a chair at the card table with the determination she brought to every aspect of life.The other boys had mocked her.But Wesley dealt her in.
She'd won.Not every hand, but enough.And when it was over, she'd grinned at him with that same satisfied look he'd seen a hundred times since.He rubbed his hand down his face.He had been a fool to not recognize it on Kit.
“A girl like that needs a firm hand,” his mother said.“Not cruelty, mind you.But clear expectations.A duchess who runs wild will bring the whole family to ruin.Your father always said—”
“I need you to stop.”His voice came out quieter than he intended.
“Wesley, I am trying to help you see—”
“I know what you're trying to do.”He turned to face her.“And I have heard enough at present.”
His mother's mouth opened, then closed.She studied him for a long moment, and whatever she saw in his expression was enough to make her rise and collect her things without further argument.She paused at the door.
“Think about what I've said.What you do next will have consequences for us all, Wesley.”
He didn't answer.She left, and the study was quiet except for the low crackle of the fire and the blood pounding in his temples.
He finished his brandy and poured another, but didn't drink it.He just stood there, holding the glass, hearing his mother's voice layered over the things he’d said to Thea.
He'd told Thea that she was selfish.His mother had called her wild.The words were different, but they meant the same thing—that Thea was too much of what others believed she shouldn’t be.Too independent, too bold, too unwilling to fold herself into the shape someone else had drawn for her.His mother meant it as a flaw.So had Wesley, when he was standing in that garden.
But it was the reason he'd been in love with her for as long as he could remember.He set down the glass and left the house, needing more time to think.
The Fox was quiet for the hour.A handful of men occupied the far tables, deep in their own games.Parker glanced up from behind the bar when Wesley entered, and if the man had an opinion about the duke walking in alone, he kept it concealed behind that weathered face.
The corner seat—her seat—was empty.The whole table was empty.Wesley sat down across from where she would have been and signaled for whiskey.
The drink arrived.He stared at the vacant chair.
He'd been coming here for weeks, and until three days ago, he hadn't understood why.Escaping to the gaming hell had given him the same thing she wanted for herself—a place to exist without the weight of a title.To be who she wanted to be.Yet when he'd found out, his first instinct had been to forbid it.The whiskey burned going down and did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.
“There you are.”Louis dropped into the chair on Wesley's left.Max took the one on his right.They'd been looking for him—he could tell from the way Louis scanned his face, assessing the damage.“What did your mother do now?”
“How did you—”
