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1
London, Some months later.
Theo marched into the park just as the sun was beginning to pinken the sky, thinking how fortunate it was that the Averell mansion backed up to the rolling expanse of grass and trees. The park was easily reached through the mansion’s garden gate, usually kept locked to avoid any unwanted guests from wandering onto her brother’s property. Something that had never happened. The Averell footmen were incredibly vigilant.
When it came to someone slippingintoher brother’s garden.
No one spared Theo a glance as she left her bed before the sun was up and made her way down the double staircase. Or if they had, they’d chosen not to pay attention. Not an unusual occurrence. Theo was used to moving quietly through the house, unnoticed except by perhaps Pith, their butler.
Phaedra, Theo’s younger sister, would have drawn notice immediately. She demanded attention. Olivia, her mother’s ward, wouldneversneak into the park without escort at the crack of dawn.
If any one of them possessed an ounce of ladylike decorum, it was Olivia.
And Theo’s elder sister, Romy? Now married, she no longer lived at the Averell mansion. Instead, Romy resided with the immense block of stone everyone in London referred to as the Duke of Granby. The newlywed pair had left only yesterday for an extended tour of Italy and wouldn’t return for several months.
Theo tucked the bit of canvas she carried more securely beneath her arm.
Painting and contemplating the Earl of Blythe was how Theo planned to spend her morning. His birthday was next week. An invitation for the celebration, planned by his mother, had already arrived at the Averell mansion. Theo would be attending with Cousin Winnie and Rosalind. She’d already chosen the gown she would wear.
Blythe’s gift from Theo, rather splendid if a bit improper, was finally finished and already sitting in a tiny wooden box decorated with a bow. The gift was sure to compel Blythe to offer for her, something Theo desired above all else.
Her fingers tightened on the handle of the rosewood box containing her paints and brushes. The blanket she carried shifted against her hip. Theo paused to tuck the blanket and the canvas more securely beneath her arm.
If Romy were in London, she would be quite distressed by Theo’s plans. Horrified, in fact. Frankly, Theo herself was more than a little shocked. But nothing was ever achieved by being a milquetoast, according to Theo’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Averell. Still, before her departure, Romy had made Theo promise she wouldn’t do anything impulsive. Or brazen. Blythe’s mother was known to be a bastion of propriety. She wouldn’t look kindly on a bold young lady attempting to ensnare her son.
Theo rolled her eyes as she trudged along, the rosewood box banging against her thigh. What did Romy know? Granby hadn’t courted Romy properly. He’d ruined her andthenmarried her.
Though Blythe hadn’t asked permission to formally court Theo, he’d paid her a great deal of attention at Granby’s house party. By his own admission, he regarded her highly. Blythe had also danced with Theo at Lady Cambourne’s ballandat Lady Ralston’s, two of the social season’s most significant events. He’d called on two separate occasions. They had even read poetry together in the garden. And during Romy’s wedding to Granby, he’dwinkedat Theo from across the aisle of the church, his golden beauty, clothed in a suit of peacock blue, nearly blinding her with its magnificence. A blush had warmed her cheeks at the affectionate gesture.
Until she’d caught sight of Haven sitting next to Blythe.
Theo stumbled over a tree root. “Drat.”
Haven’s eyes had lingered far too long on her bosom before reaching her mouth, a not-too-subtle reminder of the kiss he’d stolen from her at Granby’s house party. What was worse, she’d enjoyed that kiss far too much. Embarrassing to admit, but true. Even more humiliating when she learned how competitive Haven and Blythe were with each other. Haven, poverty-stricken marquess that he was, envied Blythe his wealth and a great many other things.
Her first real kiss had surely only been done to anger Blythe.
Theo had little choice but to avoid Haven on principle. When Haven had called at the Averell mansion for Romy—as an ambassador of sorts on behalf of Granby and under the guise of friendship—Theo had made herself scarce. Fortunately, outside of Romy’s wedding, Theo hadn’t seen Haven at any of the events she’d attended, for which she was grateful. According to Cousin Winnie, Haven’s interests were solely focused on Miss Violet Emerson.
Good riddance.
Theo forced her mind back to the task at hand and the entire reason for being in the park at such an ungodly hour. Olivia had issued Theo a challenge. Create somethingotherthan a miniature. Yes, miniatures showcased Theo’s singular talent, but wasn’t it time to expand her horizons? Try something different? A landscape perhaps, or a bowl of fruit.
Or a breast.
Theo bit her lip. Olivia would faint dead away even mentioning the word.
But Theo acknowledged itwastime to move on. After all, the miniature she had painted for Blythe was by far her best work. Difficult to surpass. One of a kind. Incredibly improper. Perfect. She might not ever paint another miniature.
Earlier this week, Theo had finally yielded to Olivia’s pressure and sketched out the small pond hidden in a copse of trees at the base of the hill she now climbed. Theo’s pencil had scratched away while Olivia had perched on the blanket beside her, calmly paging through one of the dull books on gardening she found endlessly fascinating.
Hyacinths. Peonies. Soil fertilized with cow dung. An interest Olivia unbelievably shared with Granby, of all people.
Theo enjoyed a good book as much as anyone, but her tastes ran more to romance. Lately, she’d developed a taste for novels featuring pirates. Thieves. Dangerous highwaymen. Horrid villains. Not the proper way to prune a rose bush.
The sun was beginning to rise as she approached the top of the hill, soft morning light spreading out atop the slick surface of the water. She took bigger steps, hoping to get to the correct spot before the light changed and ruined the vision in her mind’s eye. There were very few people in the park at this hour, which was a good thing. No one would remark on the reclusive, slightly odd middle Barrington daughter alone without escort, though Theo didn’t consider herself quite so solitary or strange now, thanks to Blythe and his attentions.
She set down her artist’s kit and the canvas before tossing out the blanket tucked beneath her arm. Spreading the blanket across the grass, she turned her gaze to the pond.
