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12
“May I interrupt?”
Theo looked up from the book in her lap, blinking at a splendid Earl of Blythe dressed in a coat of indigo. His waistcoat, shot through with silver and gold thread, was dazzling, as was the rest of him, so blindingly attractive it hurt to look at him. But the desperate adoration Theo had once held for him failed to rouse itself. No flirtatious, mildly improper comment came to her lips, no hope that he would respond with a laugh. Most importantly, her heart made no leap up inside her chest at the sight of him. She had seen Blythe at Lady Molsin’s, of course, but they hadn’t spoken, not since the night ofTheodosia’s Great Folly.
“My lord, what an unexpected surprise.”
“Hopefully a pleasant one.” The sunlight turned his hair to pure gold.
‘I’ve desired you since you spilled ratafia on me.’
The words growled against her skin as she took in the gentleman before her, repeating so loudly, Theo barely heard Blythe’s charming response. How was she to know, Theo wished to rail at Haven, that all the teasing and innuendo he’d subjected her to at the house party had been meant to gain her attention? Haven had told Theo he didn’t flirt, but hedid, just not the same way a gentleman like Blythe might.
And I missed all of it.
“Of course, my lord.” Theo glanced down at the book in her lap, shut it, and quickly pushed it beneath her skirts. Theo was readingLord Thurston’s Revenge, a novel best suited to twittering girls who wished to be kidnapped by pirates, and she’d no desire to have Blythe think her more of a nitwit than he already must. Besides, the enjoyment of the book had been dampened by the annoyance of an image of Haven invading her thoughts whenever Lord Thurston graced the page.
“I wished to call on you before the wedding. I understand it’s tomorrow.” Blythe nodded at the spot next to her on the bench. “May I sit?”
“Yes, my lord.” Theo scooted over to make room for him. She’d come to the garden to read in peace and to escape Phaedra, who was running about the house with a stick clutched in one hand pretending to sword fight. And to contemplate her future.
She glanced at Blythe from beneath her lashes. A part of her wished she’d brought her spectacles into the garden, but Theo could read quite well without them. What would Blythe think to see Theo with her spectacles?
Haven didn’t seem bothered in the least by them. He’d kissed Theo, possessively cupping her sex as they stood in the studio, all with the hated metal frames fixed firmly on her face. The entire episode, the feel of his fingers searching for her through the material of her skirts, left her unable to think clearly.
She pressed her thighs together. Now was not the time to indulge herself with such thoughts. Not with Blythe looking at her strangely.
“You are well, Lady Theodosia?” There was concern in Blythe’s eyes as he settled himself beside her. He turned his chin to take in the garden before facing her again, the close-cropped waves of his hair buffeting in the breeze.
“Yes, thank you.” Theowaswell. Or as well as she could be as London’s latest scandal, being forced to marry a destitute marquess who had inadvertently ruined her. But aside from her impending marriage, Theo felt more like herself than she had in some time. There was also a huge sense of relief that Blythe had never seen the miniature.
Haven had saved her from that, at least.
“I’ve known Haven for some time, my lady.”
“I’m aware, my lord.”
“Well, then you must know we argue frequently, mostly because I cannot stop poking the bear.” A dazzling smile crossed his features. “Haven is the bear.”
Still not so much as a flicker of Theo’s pulse. And she’d never had the urge to paint Blythe. “I gathered that.”
“May I be blunt?”
“By all means.”
“Haven is very sensitive about his...situation.”
As well he should be. The late Marquess of Haven had not been well thought of before his death, according to gossip. Lots of gambling. Drinking. Women. “I’m aware, my lord.”
“He feels responsible for what happened, though none of it was his fault. Nor what happened to his sister.” Blythe looked at her for understanding. “Has he mentioned the uncle living with him at Greenbriar?”
“He’s a drunk,” Theo replied, wondering what accident had befallen Haven’s sister. He’d only mentioned her being ill, nothing more.
Blythe nodded. “Haven is intensely private, even with those closest to him. Believe it or not, I didn’t even know he had an uncle until recently. He rarely speaks of his sister. Never of the late marquess.” A wrinkle creased his brow. “Won’t ask for assistance. His pride won’t allow it, I suspect.” Blythe hesitated, probably assuming he’d said more than he should. “I wanted you to know, we spoke of Miss Emerson several times beforeyour encounter with him in my study.”
Was knowing Haven spoke to Blythe about the possibility of courting Miss Emerson meant to make Theo feel better? Because it did not. Her feelings for Haven were tangled enough without feeling second best to Viscount Emerson’s perfect daughter.
Blythe gently took her hand. “You were doubtless in the study because of me. You were meaning to present the gift you’d brought for my birthday, weren’t you?”
