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“Is he really so bad?”
“I should be asking you that, my lady.”
“I meant Erasmus, Betts.”
Her maid bit back a smile. “I had a cousin. Trembled something terrible. Couldn’t even attend a dance due to his nervous condition. Always counted all his steps, no matter where he walked. The only way for him to get through the day was his gin. Lord Erasmus reminds me of my cousin. The worst thing he’d done, according to Mrs. Henderson, was steal some of Lady Jacinda’s books to buy drink. Which she forgave him for, though Lord Haven did not. Yelled at his uncle for it. Lord Erasmus is tetched in the head, I warrant. Much like Mr. Henderson.”
“A war injury,” Theo said absently. “Mr. Henderson, that is.”
“He’s harmless but bothersome. Gave me a half-dead rose just this morning. You’ll form your own opinion, I’m sure. Stays drunk a great deal of the time, always mumbling. Sometimes in another language—”
“French, most likely. Erasmus lived there for many years until, well, until he couldn’t.”
“Whatever it is, it hurts these poor English ears to hear it. Trembles something terrible due to the drink. When I arrived, I found him passed out in the drawing room. Nearly tripped over him. Screamed as if I’d stabbed him. It was so dark without the lamps lit, I thought he was a rolled-up rug.”
“Until you realized there are no rugs left at Greenbriar.”
Betts shot her a grin. “Nor proper chairs or beds. According to Mrs. Henderson,” Betts lowered her voice, “the uncle was the one who suggested the late marquess sell everything that wasn’t nailed down. Encouraged it. Probably because the marquess was so deeply in debt.”
“I’m sure,” Theo answered.
“There’s not a portrait, vase or knickknack left.” Betts clucked her tongue as she helped ready Theo for bed.
“Betts, you must think me terrible. I completely forgot. Where will you sleep if there aren’t any beds in the servant’s quarters?”
“You’re not to worry, my lady. I’ve found a spot downstairs in a small parlor Mrs. Henderson said once belonged to Lord Haven’s mother. A veritable paradise. There are two sofas. They’ve seen better days, mind you, fabric torn and such, but they aren’t uncomfortable. Probably why they weren’t sold along with everything else. Made myself a cozy little nook. Had the things from your studio all put inside so I can keep an eye on them. As well as your extra trunks. I keep the room locked up. Mrs. Henderson assures me I’ve got the only key.”
“Is it really necessary to lock things up?” she said before recalling what had happened to Jacinda’s books. “Never mind. I assume because of Haven’s uncle.”
“Things do tend to walk off, according to Mrs. Henderson, especially if Lord Erasmus is out of drink. Don’t want him trying to sell one of your gowns or a miniature you’ve done. Like any true sot, he has bottles of spirits stashed all over the house. And in the tree at the edge of the drive. But don’t worry, he won’t dare come up here. He’s terrified of Lord Haven. And before you ask, I’m not sure where he sleeps.” She shrugged.
“I’m sure he has a room somewhere.” Haven had still not made an appearance despite the statement from Betts that she’d seen him come up the drive with Erasmus in tow. She’d have expected he would at least check on her.
Stifling a yawn, Theo waved Betts goodnight before sinking beneath the sheets. At least they were clean and smelled of soap and sunshine. Probably the doing of her maid. Betts deserved something special for tolerating such poor working conditions. Perhaps Theo would have Romy design a dress for Betts. One she could wear on her day off or if she chose to let Stitch court her.
She rolled over on her side, trying to get comfortable on the mattress—impossible because it sagged dreadfully in the middle. The soreness made itself known when she moved. Theo could still feel Haven’s mouth on her breasts, the featherlight touch across her skin. Annoyance tightened her lips. She shouldn’t have had to navigate today without him regardless of whether she’d dismissed him or not.
A moment later, the door opened. Finally. Theo didn’t bother to roll over or greet him.
“I doubt you’re asleep.” Exhaustion colored the low timbre of Haven’s voice.
He circled the bed, lamp in hand, until he faced her, dripping water all over the floor and across the bed. The corner of his shirt was torn and covered in dirt. His mop of hair stuck out sharply, drops of water dripping from the ends. One of his cheeks had a cut, and his knuckles were scraped and raw looking.
Dear God. He is Theseus the tomcat.
It was obvious he’d been in a fight. And just as apparent he’d bathed somewhere. A pond or a stream would be her guess. There was a thin strand of grass stuck in his hair. He sat on the bed and took off one boot, flinging mud across the room.
“What are you doing?” Theo sat up. Surely, he didn’t think they were sharing this room tonight after what he’d said to her this morning. Because they weren’t.
“Taking my boots off.” He craned his neck to take her in. “What does it look like.”
Not so much as an apology for leaving her adrift in this bloody heap the entire day. Not a hint of groveling for his false assumptions. “It looks like, my lord, that you are planning to disrobe, which I insist you do in another room.”
“You sound very prim this evening, Theodosia. Quite a departure from last night. And I feel as if we’ve already had this conversation.”
“Sleep with your uncle. I assume you’ve found him.”
Haven tossed his other boot across the room, stood, and stripped off his shirt as he walked, completely disregarding her request that he disrobe elsewhere. The muscles of his back flexed, bunching beneath his skin as he tossed the shirt to the floor.
