“If that is your wish.”
“It is.” She stepped back.
Richard offered his arm, and they departed the study in silence. Once in the corridor, he asked, “How do you plan to pass the day?”
“Well,” she said with a smile, “we have Lord Warwicke’s ball this evening. And preparations are, as always, plentiful.”
He grinned. “Sometimes, I think being a man is far simpler.”
“I do hope you will dance with Dosia,” she added lightly, as if that thought had just come to her.
“Do you?”
“If you show her attention, the other gentlemen will follow suit. That is how these things work.”
The very thought of other men lining up for Miss Theodosia angered him. He offered no reply, but the conversation lingered in his mind long after they reached the dining room.
As they stepped into the room, he saw Miss Theodosia already seated at the long mahogany table with a book in her hand. Her back was straight, her expression intent, and she was utterly absorbed in her reading—until she caught sight of them entering.
She promptly closed the book and set it down. “I do beg your pardon,” she said, her tone apologetic, “but we are returning to the circulating library later today, and I was quite determined to finish this before we go.”
“No harm done,” Lady Wilton replied, waving her hand dismissively as she took her customary place at the head of the table. “A book worth finishing is often worth forgiving.”
Richard crossed to stand beside Miss Theodosia’s chair. “May I ask what you’re reading with such urgency?”
She glanced up at him, her lips curving faintly. “It’s one Olivia recommended—La Princesse de Clèves. A French novel.”
“Ah.” He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “Fantastical nonsense, then.”
Miss Theodosia did not appear amused by his remark. “Not at all. It is, unfortunately, all too grounded in reality. The heroine is torn between the man she loves and the obligations imposed upon her by Society.”
He leaned a hand on the table, intrigued despite himself. “And which does she choose?”
“Duty,” Miss Theodosia answered, her fingers brushing the closed cover of the book as though reluctant to let it go. “Even after her husband dies, she refuses the duke’s proposal. She blames herself for her husband’s decline and remains alone, loyal to a sense of honor that, in truth, brought her little happiness.”
“Fascinating,” he murmured, reaching for the book. He flipped through the pages idly, the soft crackle of paper the only sound for a moment. “Still, it is not uncommon. Those in high Society often find that happiness must be second to obligation. Not everyone is free to follow their heart.”
“That is a sad way to live,” Miss Theodosia said. “To sacrifice so much, only to please others.”
“Indeed,” Lady Wilton interjected from her end of the table. “I must agree with Dosia. A life without personal happiness is not one I would recommend. Don’t you think so, Richard?”
He knew that tone—it was deliberate. His mother was baiting him. He closed the book and set it gently on the table. “Whether I agree or not is irrelevant. As a marquess, my path is dictated by duty. To my estate. To my family. To my name.”
Miss Theodosia’s gaze lingered on him for a breath longer than necessary, and in her expression was something perilously close to pity. “And what of your happiness, my lord?”
He forced a smile as he moved to his seat. “I am perfectlycontent when my tenants are cared for, my accounts are balanced, and my work in the House of Lords is effective. That is happiness enough for me.”
But as he unfolded his napkin and reached for his cup of tea, he felt her eyes on him still. And for reasons he could not name, he could not quite bring himself to meet them.
Theodosia sat with a small stack of books nestled in her lap as the coach trundled through the cobbled London streets, bound for the circulating library. She adjusted them carefully, her fingers brushing over the tooled leather spines. The promise of new stories stirred a familiar flutter of anticipation within her since there was nothing quite like the prospect of discovering a fresh tale.
Across from her, Olivia sat gracefully, tapping a gloved finger lightly against her chin before speaking. “Well? How did you fare with the books I recommended?”
Theodosia lifted her gaze. “I devoured them. Especially the ones penned by women. Their voices felt... truer somehow. More intimate.”
Olivia smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. There’s power in those perspectives. You just have to know where to look.”
Theodosia shifted the books to her side, then added more softly, “And thank you for coming to my aid last night. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t.”
