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“All this time.” Her words held such an acrid note, hardly sounding like Theodosia at all. “You had me believing—” She looked down at her lap before raising her chin again. “You made me believe you wantedme. But that wasn’t the case at all.Youwanted Leo Murphy’s sister.”
“I didn’t lie about wanting you.”
“Only everything else.” Her words were sharp. Cutting. As if the last few weeks had never happened.
“One had nothing to do with the other. I fell in lov—”
“Don’t youdare. Do not say it.” Theodosia trembled slightly, blinking as if to stop from weeping, something he’d never seen her do, not even when Lady Blythe treated her with such scorn. “You promised to be honest with me.”
“I did. I am. You know how I feel about you.” He pressed a palm over his chest, directly above his heart. “Youknow.”
Theo’s gaze flicked over him, chilly and uncompromising. “You never told me Elysium was where your father beggared himself, Ambrose. Never explained to me that he gave away everything you held dear so he could play dice at the club my brother owns. Wasn’t that a truth you should have told me?”
“My father didn’t give it away,” he shot back. “Your brother coerced him into it.” He was angry now too. Incensed that one letter from Leo Murphy far outweighed the nights spent in his arms. The way they’d worked together to rebuild Greenbriar. The love Ambroseknewlay between them.
He took a step forward. “My father wouldneverhave gambled everything away, especially not my sister’s dowry, without someone drawing him along. I’m sure he made the perfect mark. Grief-stricken. Wealthy. Easy to manipulate. Your brother is a monumental prick who delights in destroying bits and pieces of the aristocracy because he will never belong to it. My father is doubtless only one of Murphy’s victims, all because your brother can’t tolerate being a low-born bastard.”
Theodosia didn’t even flinch at Ambrose’s snarling temper. Instead, she smoothed down the fabric of her skirts.
“My brother’s illegitimate birth in no way diminishes who he is or my love for him. He is a businessman. You behave as if Leo incited your father to drink and gamble away everything but his title. Edmund Collingwood,” her eyes narrowed behind the glass of her spectacles, “was a sot and a very poor gambler. Liked whores as well, I’m told.”
Ambrose thought he might snap in two. He backed away from her, horrified by this repulsive conversation. One he’d prayed never to have.
“He was only too happy to sign away your inheritance, Ambrose. The only inducement he needed was found at the bottom of a bottle of scotch. A truth you refuse to see but one I’ll acknowledge.”
Even as angry as he was, Ambrose admired Theodosia’s steel. Her absolute loyalty to her brother and her family. He just wished she felt a bit of that loyalty for him.
“I am not sure how you managed to be in the study at exactly the right time, nor do I wish to know. Maybe you and Blythe conspired together.” She gave a shrug. “I suppose when faced with both myself and my sister at Granby’s house party, you couldn’t decide which one of us would do. I suspect Granby claiming my sister deterred you, so you sought out second best.”
“You are not second best, Theodosia.” A wash of agony hit him in the chest, pushing aside his anger and frustration. “You are first, last, and always for me.” His voice broke. “Please—”
A contemptuous laugh came from her as she stood, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I’m leaving, Haven. I cannot bear to be near you right now.” She purposefully took off her spectacles and tossed them carelessly on the sofa. “I can’t stand thesightof you. I was much happier before everything was made so clear to me.” She bent to pick up the letter, careful to stay out of his reach.
Ambrose reached out and took hold of her elbow. The anger between them made it difficult for him to breathe. He wanted to lock her away until she listened to him. Let him explain.
“At least take your bloody spectacles, Theodosia,” he growled. “You won’t be able to see. You’ll trip and—”
“Grope some unsuspecting gentleman?” she whispered in a falsely flirtatious manner. “Dear God.” She leaned in purposefully so he could see down her bodice. “I hope so.”
Ambrose released her, temper flaring again at her words. “You would do well, Lady Haven,” he hissed, “to remember that this will not be a marriage of distance or one where you take lovers. That has not changed. Nor will it.”
“Oh, dear. Fight a duel over it. I beg you.” Theo strode from the room, her skirts swirling about her ankles. “Goodbye, Ambrose. Enjoy the painting and my dowry.”
