“And this,” Lord Wilton continued, gesturing to his sister, “is Lady Olivia.”
Theodosia offered a polite smile. “A pleasure, Lady Olivia. I have heard much about you.”
Olivia arched a brow. “Then you have the advantage, Miss Smith, for I know nothing about you.”
“Sister… be nice,” Richard warned.
Olivia pressed her lips together and rose. “If you will excuse me, I need a moment to think this through.”
As she swept from the room, Lord Wilton turned to Theodosia. “She will come around.”
“And if she does not?” Theodosia asked.
“Then our arrangement remains as agreed.” He turned to his mother. “I’ll leave her in your capable hands. There is business I must attend to.”
Without another word, he left, leaving Theodosia alone with a woman she had just met.
“You have a beautiful home,” Theodosia offered, not knowing what else she should say.
“Thank you, my dear. You must be famished.”
“I am a bit.”
“Well, dinner isn’t until eight,” Lady Wilton said, glancing at the long clock in the corner. “I shall request a tray be sent to your room in the meantime. Come—I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. Will you tell me about yourself?”
As they ascended the stairs, Theodosia offered, “I fear there’s not much to tell about me.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Wilton said with a smile. “My son has never brought a woman home before. Naturally, I am intrigued.”
“I am the daughter of a baronet, from a small village in Sussex,” Theodosia explained. “Both of my parents have passed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. And how old are you?”
“Two and twenty, my lady.”
“Have you ever had a Season?”
“No. I remained home to manage our estate. I’m rather good at it.”
“I believe you.”
They turned down a richly carpeted corridor.
“I do have a sister,” Theodosia added. “But she rarely stays in one place.”
Lady Wilton stopped at a door and opened it. “This will be your room.”
Theodosia stepped inside and her feet faltered. A grand four-poster bed stood before the hearth, its coverlet ashimmering pale blue. Plush lavender drapes framed tall windows, and the thick rug beneath her feet muffled her steps.
“This... this is lovely,” she whispered, running her hand over the silk bedspread.
“I’m glad you think so. Olivia and I redecorated it for visiting guests.”
“Oh, but I am not a guest. I’m a companion. Perhaps something smaller would be more appropriate.”
“Nonsense. This will do perfectly. Dinner is promptly at eight—you’ll hear the bell.”
Her brow furrowed. “Am I to dine with the family?”
