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11
Theo stared out her studio window at the Averell residence, watching the stream of carriages roll through the park. Life moved on, oblivious to the one Barrington daughter whose future had been decided largely by those enjoying the day. The Duke of Averell and his family were once again mired in scandal while all of London stood by watching gleefully.
At least Theo’s disgrace had provided everyone a decent amount of entertainment.
The evening at Lady Molsin’s had been a trial for Theo. Polite congratulations had flowed her way, followed by the snap of a fan and small sounds of whispered amusement at her predicament. Cousin Winnie had spent most of the evening red-faced. Lady Molsin, deploying the chilliness of her nephew, had stood with Theo’s mother, daringanyoneto voice their opinions aloud. None dared, of course. Eccentric and slightly tarnished though the Barringtons were, Theo’s brother was still a duke.
The only highlight of the evening—a soft flutter pressed across her chest— had been when Haven had dragged her into a dark room and proceeded to kiss her senseless. She’d never believed a woman could be kissed to the point that her mind became a tangled mess of nothing. Until now.
Theo drummed her fingers against her thigh in consternation.
Once Haven had dismissed Theo, forcing her return to Lady Molsin’s drawing room, Theo had had the sense to stop before a mirror decorating one wall. Her eyes had been heavy-lidded. Her lips swollen. A light flush dusted her cheeks. Everyone at Lady Molsin’s little party already assumed the worst about Theo. Their opinions would be cemented by her ‘kissed senseless’ appearance once she returned to the drawing room.
Theo had smiled back at her reflection in that mirror.
She was the daughter of the bloody Duke of Averell. A Barrington. Theo hadnointention of allowing a bunch of old biddies, of which Lady Blythe was the worst offender, to make her feel less than who she was.
Let them talk.
She had returned to her mother’s side, held her chin up at a defiant angle, and ignored the whispers about her. She would have avoided her future husband for the remainder of the evening, except Haven had never returned to the party, abandoning her to the wolves, so to speak. Theo had refused to glance in Blythe’s direction again. It was time for her to consider the future.
She brushed the edge of her chin with the tip of her paintbrush.
The feelings Haven inspired in Theo were not welcome. Losing the upper hand at the critical beginning of their marriage would be a disaster. She couldn’t afford to, not until they’d reached some sort of understanding. Yes, Haven might find her appealing. After all, he’d kissed her twice, but—there was norealaffection between them.
But might there be?
Theo shook her head, not wishing to consider something more than a marriage of convenience only to be disappointed later. She wasn’t a good judge of a man’s intentions, given her experience with Blythe. She didn’t trust the attraction between her and Haven. Or her own instincts. Far better to set down some rules with Haven to protect her future self. The discussion was long overdue.
She exhaled, watching as her breath fogged the glass of the window. Of course, it was impossible to have such a discussion before the wedding if Haven continued to ignore her. Since Lady Molsin’s ill-fated gathering, Theo’s future husband hadn’t called. Not once. Which only added more fuel to her decision to reach an understanding with him. Society was littered with the deflated hearts of young ladies who’d found themselves in the same situation, mistaking that what their husbands desired most was them and not just their dowry. It would be easy to confuse physical attraction with affection, especially where Haven was concerned. Theo did not mean to be one of those young ladies. When Haven wandered off to his slew of mistresses, Theo promised herself she’d barely notice.
Theo frowned, the brush pausing beneath her nose. How many was a slew exactly?
Giving a sigh of exasperation, she lowered her hand. What difference would it make? Haven could have a slew, or a herd, or an entireflockof courtesans for all she cared. Whatwasimportant was that Theo kept their marriage from becoming anything other than what it was: an unfortunate accident. Although, she supposed from Haven’s perspective, the incident in Blythe’s study had been fortuitous. He would no longer be impoverished, for one thing.
All because of the miniature.
Theodosia’s Great Folly.
She lived in terror that Haven, desperate for coin before he received her dowry, might have sold the miniature. What if it ended up in the collection of a respected member of Parliament, for instance? During a party at this hallowed personage’s home, Theo would admire her host’s paintings and other objects d’art, only to come across the miniature of her half-naked breasts.
She butted her head against the glass, cringing at the mere thought. What if Freddie, her nephew, should come across the miniature when he was older, recognizing Auntie Theo? How absolutely horrifying.
“Careful, you’ll break the glass.”
The scratchy tenor pricked against her skin as Theo turned to face him. Annoyance filled her, mainly because she’d convinced herself he’d done something terrible with the miniature, but there was something else. A weakening of her knees. A soft flutter inside her chest.
The late afternoon sun set fire to the glints in his hair as Haven moved closer, giving him the sheen of copper. He was dressed in a lovely coat the color of freshly tilled soil and fawn riding breeches. The coat looked new, but the rest of his ensemble had seen better days.
Haven moved gracefully toward her, easily sidestepping the heaps of canvas, rags, paint, and other bits littering the floor of her studio. His agile movements added to the impression of him as a tomcat, as he deftly missed stepping on the small rosewood box which held her paints.
“Christ, what a mess.” There was no real rebuke in his words. The very edges of his mouth were tipped up at the corners, showing the gleam of even, white teeth.
Oh, how I want to paint him.
“How do you ever find anything in this mess given you are half-blind?”
“An excellent reason for you to leave, my lord. I wouldn’t want you to trip,” she shot back. Theo wasn’t, by nature, very organized. The clutter surrounding her was the bane of her maid, Betts, who spent most of her day cleaning up after her. More importantly, Theo had no desire to pick things up just to please Haven.
