“When do you think we’ll arrive in London?” she asked.
“If all goes as planned, we should be there by tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Plenty of time for you to rest up before supper.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “And your sister doesn’t know I’m accompanying you?”
His lips twitched. “No. I thought it might be best to surprise her.”
Theodosia gave him a long look, unsure if she should admire or admonish such a choice. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“I do,” he replied without hesitation. “My sister is quite fond of surprises.”
“And what if she is not fond of me?”
“Then you shall return home, two thousand pounds richer,” Lord Wilton replied, his tone light and his expression maddeningly unconcerned—as if her entire future were nothing more than a minor detail, easily dismissed.
Theodosia picked up her fork and resumed eating, though her appetite had dimmed. She chewed slowly, thoughtfully, the flavors on her plate fading beneath the weight of her thoughts.
She hated not knowing what the next day would bring, what role she was meant to play, or whether she even wanted the opportunities being laid before her. Her fingers tightened around her fork.
For a woman who had always prided herself on being practical and prepared, the uncertainty gnawed at her more than she dared admit.
