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“I am.” She nearly smiled back at him, thinking of Blythe’s gift. Daring was what the miniature was. Bold. Painted to showcase both her talent and affection. It was meant to compel Blythe to announce his intentions. She refused to believe it would not work.
“Must have been what ruined your eyesight. All that tiny painting.”
Theo’s lips tightened. She came very close to stabbing Haven with the end of her paintbrush. “I’m experimenting with a larger canvas.”
“You are? How interesting,” he purred.
Haven probably sprang from the womb mildly debauched and rumpled, with a cheroot in one hand and the other reaching for a glass of scotch. But if he thought forone momentthat Theo would be taken aback by his blatant attempt to insert impropriety into their discussion, he was sorely mistaken. She had two older brothers, both of whom were far more masterful at innuendo than the marquess sitting next to her.
“Where does one hang such a thing?” Haven finally said after pretending to study her canvas with great interest. “It’s barely larger than a book.”
“It ismuchlarger than a book,” she snapped, concerned with the stretch of Haven’s fingers next to her skirts. “One hangs a picture such as this in their home. Perfect for a nook in the foyer or a study. Possibly a parlor.”
“A nook?” Haven made a small grunt. “I can’t imagine art specifically for a secluded, dark corner. Why would you bother? If one is in such a place,” his voice lowered, “their intent is not to observe a painting.” He leaned close again, the edge of his chin brushing lightly atop her shoulder. “Though the strokes are very fine.”
Spice filled Theo’s nostrils. “You know nothing about painting. Annoyance, however, is a different matter.”
“You’ve missed the geese.” He pointed first to the canvas and then the pond, the movement of his lips as he spoke grazing just over the curve of her ear. “You probably can’t make them out clearly. Those blobs of white, just there.”
“I know what they are,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to steady herself. “I am not blind.”
“Are you certain? Because you’ve missed them,” he said.
“My lord, is your presence here this morning meant to punish me in some way? Perhaps because I insulted you at Granby’s house party? After...” She moved her paintbrush in the air.
“After I kissed you?” he said in a solemn tone. “When you claimed you thought I was Blythe?”
“Yes.”
“After you kissed me back?”
Theo didn’t care to be reminded of her lapse in judgement. “I made it clear I didn’t enjoy your attentions. I’m sorry if you found that to be insulting—”
Her words were cut off by a snort of derision coming from Haven as he waved away her excuse and sat back from her. “I’m only trying to help, my lady.”
“Your help isn’t required.”
“Clearly it is because you’ve missed the geese. You really need to wear your spectacles. I can’t believe you’d allow your art to suffer for vanity.”
Theo wondered, if she screamed loud enough, if the Averell footmen would hear even from this distance and rush to her aid. Pith would certainly come barreling into the park. Better yet, Theo could simply lure Haven to the edge of the pond, pretend not to see him, and push him in. Haven, for whatever reason, seemed determined to irritate her with his presence and unwelcome comments. This had been the entire theme of their limited acquaintance. He wasn’t atalllike Blythe.
With a sigh, she took a rag from the rosewood box and wiped off her brush, resigned to having had her morning ruined.
“Aren’t you going to finish?” Haven’s eyes dipped to her bodice where a spray of freckles emerged from the very modest neckline of her dress.
Blythe often likened the line of freckles to a constellation in the night sky, though he’d never actually been able to name one. Theo still took it as a compliment.
“No,” she replied tartly. “The light is no longer correct. You interrupted me, spoiling my work.” She wiped the paint off her palette before stowing it away in the rosewood box and tossing the rag inside. Placing the easel atop the rag she said, “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, my lord.”
“I’ve angered you.” Haven stood and offered her his hand. “Let me help you. I’ll escort you home.”
“Absolutely, positively no.” She stood and smoothed her skirts. “I do not wish to be seen with you and risk my reputation. Go away.”
“You’re very hostile this morning, Lady Theodosia.” There was a tiny smirk on his lips. The wretch was enjoying her discomfort.
“Perhaps the cause is the uninvited company.”
He pressed a hand to his chest, where she guessed his heart might be. If he possessed one. “You wound me.”
“Get off the blanket,” she snapped. Really, Haven was the most trying person she’d ever met. If he annoyed everyone as he did her, it was no wonder the result was a punch thrown in his direction.
Stepping off with a small hop, Haven held his hand out again, which she ignored, opting instead to snatch up the blanket. Tucking the blanket under her arm Theo picked up the rosewood box and her canvas.
“You must allow me to help. You could drop your canvas.”
“I managed to get everything out here on my own, my lord. And you’ve helped me quite enough for today. Good morning, Lord Haven.”
“I should escort you.” He kept pace with her easily as she headed in the direction of the gate to the Duke of Averell’s garden. “You might run into a tree. Or bump your head into the stone wall surrounding your brother’s house. What if you reach for the door leading inside and instead of the knob, one of the footmen is there and you grab—”
Theo quickened her pace before she could hear the rest.
