17
The golden light of morning streamed through the tall windows of the study, casting long beams across the surface of Richard’s desk. The accounts lay open before him, figures and ledgers carefully arranged, yet entirely unread. His eyes scanned the page, but his thoughts were far removed from the column of numbers. They had returned, again and again, to the events of the previous night—and to her.
Miss Theodosia.
The image of Mr. Pritchett’s hand on her arm, of her startled expression, and that faint tremble in her voice, tormented him. What might have happened had they not arrived in time? The thought had robbed him of sleep.
She was under his protection. That had been the arrangement. But it wasn’t duty that drove this unrest in his soul—it was something far more dangerous.
He cared for her.
More than he should. More than was wise. More than he dared admit aloud.
He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand through hishair in frustration.Could it be love?Olivia had suggested as much, and at the time, he had scoffed. But now…
Good gads, no.
He couldn’t love Theodosia.
Hewouldn’t.
And yet, he did.
The truth came down on him like a hammer—solid, unyielding, impossible to ignore. He did love her. Somehow, through late-night conversations, shared glances, and her maddening refusal to be anything less than herself, she had become the most important part of his day.
But how had it come to this? He had brought her here under false pretenses—as a companion for Olivia, yes, but truly as bait to lure out the elusive Mr. Smith. He had used her. And still, he had fallen for her.
Madness.
She was entirely unsuitable. A baronet’s daughter, formerly in service as a companion. Thetonwould never accept her as a marchioness.Hismarchioness. Furthermore, the scandal would cling to Olivia like a second skin. No, he needed to marry someone whose name was above reproach, whose connections could help restore his family’s standing.
A knock interrupted his brooding, and Sterling stepped into the study. “The constable, Mr. Allen, is here to speak with you, my lord.”
Richard straightened. “Show him in.”
The butler bowed and withdrew. Moments later, a large man with a heavily lined face and a full beard entered the room.
“Good morning, my lord,” the constable said with a respectful nod.
“Good morning, Constable. Please, have a seat,” Richard offered, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.
The man shook his head. “No need, I won’t stay long. Icame to inform you that Mr. Benson has confessed to embezzling funds. He claims it began shortly after your father’s passing. Said he took advantage of your… difficulties with reading numbers.”
Richard’s jaw tightened. “Splendid.”
“He’ll remain at Newgate for the foreseeable future. I daresay you won’t be troubled by him again.”
Richard rose from his seat. “Thank you for your diligence, Constable.”
“It was my pleasure, my lord,” Mr. Allen replied before taking his leave.
The door shut, and silence reclaimed the room. Richard sank slowly back into his chair, a deep ache blooming behind his eyes. Mr. Benson, whom his family had trusted for years, had preyed upon his weakness. He might never have known had it not been for Miss Theodosia’s careful scrutiny. She had saved him more than just money. She had saved his pride.
His mother entered a moment later, her expression mild but observant. “Do you intend to join us for breakfast?”
“In a moment.”
She crossed the room to stand before his desk. “Something troubles you.”
