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Theo freely admitted that she was a terrible judge of a man’s intentions toward her. There was no reason to revisit her pursuit of Blythe, but Haven had stated his desire for her. Bluntly. He’d said as much on at least two occasions. But possibly he might notexclusivelydesire her. She hadn’t really considered that.
Most gentlemen, outside of her father and Tony, had mistresses. And Granby. Theo didn’t think for one second her sister would tolerate a mistress.
Hard enough to imagineRomywanting Granby’s company, let alone any other woman.
Theo shook her head in frustration. The fact remained that many gentlemen took mistresses during their marriage. Especially if the gentleman didn’t love his wife. Which Haven did not. Love her, that is.
Mary, the inn’s maid, for example, could be a mistress. Theo’s brow wrinkled as she scrubbed her shoulder.
Very well.Not Mary.
But Haven could be downstairs right now cozied up to some luscious widow while Theo sat in her bath. Possibly he was whispering tiny bits of desirable truths into her ear as well.
A few minutes later, once Theo had scrubbed her arms raw, a soft knock came at the door. Mary had returned with a tray of roasted chicken, peas, and several slices of warm bread with butter. Thankfully, there was also a bottle of wine. But only one glass.
Theo stared at the tray and that single glass.
The soap dropped into the water. Suddenly her wild imaginings seemed far more possible than they had earlier. She was in a strange inn, on her wedding night, after having been dragged halfway across England—
All right, a possible exaggeration.
—and deserted by her husband for the delights of a widow in the common room. A luscious, golden-haired widow with perfect eyesight.
Her mood was not softened by the warmth of the water, nor the chicken which she proceeded to eat in the bath. Mary, with a sympathetic look, had been kind enough to put the tray within easy reach. The wine, ruby-colored with a mellow taste, helped somewhat, giving a slightly euphoric edge to her mounting anger.
By the time the sound of heavy, male footsteps stopped just outside the door, Theo was in a bloody horrible frame of mind and the bathwater was starting to cool.
The door opened quietly and then shut as leather, spice, and the scent of scotch floated in the air above her head. The wretch had been drinking downstairs while she sat up here eating chicken in the bath by herself.
“Get out,” she said over her shoulder. “Go sleep with your widow. Or take another room. I find I don’t care.”
“Widow? You do realize it’s me, don’t you? Not another gentleman come to stare at you in your bath. I knew the wine was a mistake.” Haven stalked past the tub, loosening his cravat before taking a seat on the bed. He stretched out his legs and proceeded to tug off his boots, tossing them with a thud into the corner.
Theo lifted her glass of wine and tilted it toward the door. “I’m enjoying the wine. Go sleep downstairs. And take your lustful nature with you.” Her feelings were terribly hurt. Which only made her madder.
Haven placed his cravat over the other chair in the room, discarding his coat and waistcoat. “Why would I do such a thing? There’s a perfectly good bed here. Can’t you see it? Where are your spectacles? Are they in your valise? Should I fetch them for you?”
Theo pulled her lips tight, pleasantly annoyed to the very tips of her toes. Her heart skipped. “Of course I can see the bed. I keep telling you my eyesight isn’t nearly as bad as you make it out to be.”
“I know.” A slow, devastating smile crossed his lips. “And there was no widow downstairs to tempt me, though I do find it interesting you assumed a widow. I do find them attractive,” he said in a faraway voice.
Theo tossed a pea at him.
“But most ladies would have suggested a tavern maid.” He smiled again.
“I’m not trying to amuse you.” That smile did things to Theo. Lovely things.
“Banish such thoughts. There was only a merchant, as it happens. Mr. Barnaby. I would have asked him for a kiss, but he has a huge wart above his lip.” Haven gave a mock shudder. “He’s from Warwick, which is close to Greenbriar. Married with ten children. Very prolific is Mr. Barnaby. In spite of the wart. I suppose his wife doesn’t mind.”
Haven was utterly breathtaking when he looked at her as he was doing now, heat banked in the depths of green, the light playing over the tiny bump in his nose. There was no practiced flirtation with him, no overly charming manner or platitudes. Nothing but his potent maleness to recommend him. She wondered how many women had taken one look at his rough attractiveness, listened to his wicked, gravelly voice, and fallen into bed with him.
Scores. Theo was certain she was going to be one of them.
Waves of russet hair danced against his broad shoulders as he peered at the tub. “You’re very tempting, Theodosia,” he whispered, the words sliding into the bath water with her. “Despite being wrinkled like a wizened apple. Must be my lustful nature which makes you seem so.”
She settled down further in the tub, realizing her nipples were visible above the sparse bubbles and that he was staring at them with the same look he’d given his plate at breakfast this morning.
Anticipation slowly curled down her naked body.
