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9
“Lord Haven,” Mama said, “perhaps you and Theodosia might wish to take a turn around the gardens.”
Theo’s fingers gripped her teacup before setting it down on the saucer with a slight clatter. She didn’twantto be alone with Haven. Nor show him the garden. Especially after watching him demolish the contents of the tea tray. Most of her dowry would go to just keeping him fed.
Her mother had invited Haven to call without Theo’s knowledge, choosing not to inform her until it was too late for Theo to come up with an excuse not to appear. And now here she was, trapped in the drawing room with an empty tea cart and a terrible disposition. Theo did find out several interesting things about her future husband over the course of his unwelcome visit. None of which made marrying him any more to her liking.
First, Haven didn’t really care for tea. Oh, he made a great show of it, asking for sugar and stirring it around, but he only took two small sips, grimacing as he did so. He probably liked coffee. Or maybe his tastes were more basic. Theo caught him looking at the assortment of decanters filling the sideboard.
Secondly, Haven loved any sort of biscuit, scone, or sandwich. Food in general. Theo had nearly lost a finger attempting to grab the lone biscuit after he’d eaten nearly everything else. He’d graciously allowed her to have it, but she sensed his resentment all the same.
Third, Haven had a younger sister named Jacinda. The idea of Haven having a sister, or any sibling, had never crossed Theo’s mind. He also possessed an uncle with the unfortunate name of Erasmus.
Lastly, and most importantly, Haven looked absolutely breathtaking today with his russet hair falling in waves over his cheekbones and the moss-green of his eyes glowing in the drawing room. Even if he was still in dire need of a decent haircut.
It was the last part that put Theo in such a bad mood. She didn’t want to find him attractive. Or even remotely appealing.
“Certainly, Your Grace,” he said politely to Mama. “I’d be delighted to see the duke’s gardens. I’ve heard they are magnificent.”
“From whom,” Theo stood, not bothering to hide her derision, “would you have heard such a thing?”
“Lady Phaedra,” Haven said, not the slightest bit nonplussed by Theo’s thinly veiled hostility toward him. “She spoke very highly of the wisteria.”
His absolute politeness grated on Theo’s nerves. He was rarely so lovely to be around, in her opinion. But today, charm and pleasant conversation oozed from him.
The purpose in inviting Haven to tea today, along with Cousin Winnie and Granby’s aunt, Lady Molsin, had been to ascertain what social event Theo and Haven should attend together to help stanch the gossip already forming about the announcement of their impending nuptials. The problem was solved when Lady Molsin agreed to play hostess to a small gathering. The trio of matrons was determined to combat whatever gossip Lady Blythe was circulating, no matter that she’d promised to remain silent. Many of the same gentlemen and ladies who had been at Blythe’s party would be invited to Lady Molsin’s.
Theo doubted any such efforts would help.
Standing to await her dubious escort to the gardens, Theo felt like a watch wound too tightly, a timepiece whose springs would snap and burst and never keep time again.
Or be happy, in her case.
Nonetheless, Theo led Haven out through the doors at the edge of the room and into the Duke of Averell’s garden while Mama tilted her head in approval.
The sky above the garden shone brilliant blue and cloudless, the sun dappling in splashes along the grass. If one stood next to the large maple closest to the house and just looked across the expanse of trees and carefully manicured beds, the wall separating the garden from the park was barely visible. It gave the appearance of being in the country, which was lovely. Under normal circumstances, Theo enjoyed the view immensely.
Haven took her arm, the heat of his touch sparking up her elbow. “Show me the bloody wisteria.” The low rasp of his voice licked against her ear.
Theo was unsurprised by his abrupt change in manner. Phaedra’s assessment of Haven couldn’t have been more astute. He was very much like Theseus the cat, forced to sit and be charming only because it eventually led to being fed.
She strolled beside him in the direction of the stone wall, listening to Haven’s boots crunch on the gravel path. Ignoring the warmth where his hand touched her elbow, Theo focused instead on hurrying him through the garden. The sooner this walk was over, the quicker Haven would leave.
“I don’t wish to attend a party in your company,” she finally said, needing to break the silence between them.
“It is a small event given by Lady Molsin. I think Granby’s aunt was very kind to offer,” came his reply.
Theo thought so as well, but that wasn’t the point. “A celebration of our engagement? Virtually no one believes our marriage is anything but the result of me being compromised, including the hostess herself.” She would have to smile and pretend to be happy when all of London knew what a farce this was, thanks to Blythe’s mother. “Lady Blythe misunderstands the meaning of the worddiscretion.”
“Hmmm.” Haven gave a low purr.
Complete disinterest. Of course, the gossip wouldn’t really affect Haven. His reputation wasn’t being shredded over tea in drawing rooms and parlors all over London. No one judged him for being an impoverished title who’d bagged a fat dowry. The gossip was all directed at Theo. Pathetic, brazen Theodosia. The odd Barrington who paints miniatures and trips over everything.
The one who would never have Blythe.
Perhaps Theo might never have had him anyway, but now she would never really know. Meaning she’d made a cake of herself for nothing. Admittedly, her pursuit of Blythe hadn’t gone exactly as she’d planned, but still, if not for Haven, she might have eventually captured Blythe’s affections. Yet another bit of blame she laid at the scuffed boots of the Marquess of Haven.
“You didn’t tell me, my lord, that you have a sister,” Theo said before stumbling over a rock on the path.
