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Theo frowned as she took the envelope. Her brother rarely wrote to her. Sometimes there were two or three lines added to the letters from her mother or Maggie, but nothing from Tony. Perhaps he’d written to tell her the Averell coach and footmen should come back to London, as it seemed he’d written to Stitch as well. It made sense. She’d already mentioned to her mother she was happy and planned on staying at Greenbriar.
Rolfe left her to her letter, going in search of Stitch.
Breaking the ducal seal, Theo started to read, expecting him to say he wished his coach back or possibly to share news of her brother Leo.
The letter did concern Leo. In fact, a note from him to her was tucked inside.
The paper crinkled between her fingers, the words blurring before her as she read Leo’s note. A terrible sensation of dread blossomed inside her, finally bursting free. She thought it might be her heart cracking at the betrayal of everything Theo had thought to be true.
He lied to me.
Coldness set in as she placed the letter face down on the sofa, unable to look at it a moment longer.
Clasping her hands, Theo lifted her chin and waited patiently for her husband to arrive.
* * *
Ambrose stoppedas he came around the corner, seeing the Averell coach with the ducal coat of arms idling in front of Greenbriar. He inhaled sharply, nodding at Stitch as the driver came forward with a bow.
“The duke asked me to ready the carriage, my lord,” Stitch explained, face absent of all expression.
“Has the mail arrived today?” Ambrose’s mouth had gone dry. Murphy hadn’t come to fetch his sister, nor Averell. He supposed he should count himself lucky, except Ambrose knew, with a horrible shredding sensation in his chest as he climbed the steps, that it only meant the news had come in the form of a letter.
His butler greeted him with a bow, questions hovering in Rolfe’s eyes, though he was too well-trained to ask. “Lady Haven awaits you in the drawing room, my lord.”
Once again, Ambrose knew that prick Leo Murphy and his pompous brother were going to take everything from Ambrose. And this time, it would be much more excruciating than simply impoverishing the Marquess of Haven.
I should have told her. Made her understand.
Ambrose walked into the drawing room, shocked for a moment by the transformation of the space. Bloody beautiful. He prepared himself to dodge one of the recently purchased vases or knickknacks, but he should have known better.
Theodosia sat calmly, so stunning it hurt to look at her, a celestial body having fallen from the heavens to grace the drawing room. There was nothing left of the flirtatious, slightly empty-headed young lady, ripe for ruination, whom he’d met so long ago.
No, not empty-headed. Theodosia had only refused to see her own value. Stumbling about blindly to attract Blythe’s attention. Instead, it was Ambrose who’d been drawn to her. Seeing the look on her face, she might prefer Blythe now, after all.
Her shoulders were stiff. Chin tilted upward not in defiance but with disdain. There was no warmth for him in the swirling blue of her eyes. Only a flash of the wound he’d inflicted. His last hope that Leo Murphy had forgotten the Marquess of Haven evaporated.
How ironic. He’d lived for years wanting Murphy to remember him.
He approached the wall, unable to look away from what she’d painted. For him. He’d never told her he loved her. He should have. Theodosia would never believe those words, not now. And she had returned that love. The proof was before him.
The night sky above Greenbriar, the same one he’d seen outside the windows of the studio he’d given her upstairs, was depicted across the long wall facing the door. The stars looked exactly as they had on the untold evenings Ambrose had spent with his father, picking out the constellations. Dreaming of the moon and stars while his father instructed Ambrose how to navigate using the heavens.
He and his father would share pie and drink cider. Ambrose would tell him all about his day, the rocks he’d collected in his pockets. The frog he’d brought for Mother, though she wasn’t at all impressed.
The wall was stunning. Magnificent. Far more than Ambrose deserved.
Theodosia wore midnight blue, matching the sofa she sat upon, an opened letter next to her. Even from where he stood, Ambrose could see the seal of the Duke of Averell. He took a step closer, pained when her slender form fell back slightly as if his touch would soil her.
“It’s magnificent,” Ambrose said. “Youare magnificent.”
“Did you want me the moment I spilled ratafia on you or only after you realized I was Leo Murphy’s sister?”
A fist clamped down on his chest—the pain of his heart breaking. “Theodosia—”
“Answer my question, Ambrose.”
“It’s complicated,” he said softly, taking a careful step in her direction, afraid she would run from him. “Please let me explain.”
