She studied him, her gaze sharp. “How old is your sister?”
“Five and twenty.”
“And she’s married?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “She is. Or rather—was. Her husband abandoned her not long ago.”
Miss Theodosia drew in a sharp breath. “How awful. Your poor sister. To be so betrayed…”
Her reaction was sincere. He could see it in the way her eyes softened and her hand pressed lightly to her chest. It made him sick. She was the reason Olivia’s life had unraveled. She must know something. But her sympathy sounded genuine.She was a good actress.
“She’s… surviving,” he said. “My mother, however, is not faring as well. The scandal has made her beside herself.”
“And what became of your sister’s husband?” Miss Theodosia asked.
Richard bristled at the question. Was she merely testing him, attempting to uncover some hidden guilt—or perhaps to see how much responsibility he would claim? He could not tell.
“I do not rightly know,” he replied, voice clipped with restrained frustration. “Which is why I am doing everything in my power to find him—for my sister’s sake.”
“And for yours,” she added simply.
He looked away, unable to meet her eyes. How easily she struck at the heart of it. He did need to find Mr. Smith for Olivia, of course. But also for himself. It was his duty to fix this. It was the only way he would be able to live with himself.
“Will you tell me about your family?” she asked.
He did not like talking about himself, but he knew that he must for the sake of this ruse. “My father died some years ago. I’ve been the head of the family since. It hasn’t been easy. Especially lately.”
“I understand more than you might think,” she said. She set the sketchbook down between them. “When my father died, the estate was in terrible condition. My sister left shortly after, and I was left to manage everything alone.”
“And now?” he asked.
“I’ve restored the estate. It’s rather profitable now. I know it’s uncommon for a woman to take on such responsibilities, but I’ve always had a head for numbers. I see patterns others miss.”
“That’s admirable,” he said, before he could stop himself.
She met his gaze, unflinching. “Your sister may surprise you as well. People often do when they have no choice but to rise to the challenges before them.”
Her words echoed in his mind. A warning—or a promise?
He wasn’t sure.
Richard stretched his legs out before him as he leaned back slightly. “My sister is the daughter of a marquess. Her days are spent in the drawing room, quietly embroidering handkerchiefs and waiting for callers who never arrive on time.”
“How perfectly dull,” Theodosia muttered under her breath, not even bothering to conceal her disdain.
“It is what’s expected of her,” he said with a shrug, as if that settled the matter.
A crease formed between her brows. “Expected, perhaps. But is it what she wants?”
“Does it matter? It’s her duty.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you believe duty should always come before desire?”
The question struck a nerve. Richard stiffened, his shoulders tensing beneath his coat. “You forget yourself. You are being far too familiar.”
“True,” she replied without the slightest hint of apology. “But I’m not in the habit of holding my tongue, particularly when a conversation becomes interesting.”
“Then perhaps you ought to reconsider that habit,” he snapped. “Your standing in Society hardly grants you the freedom to speak so freely.”
