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31
Theo watched the flames dance across the room as she waited for Haven, considering all they needed to say to each other. She’d had a lot of time to think about her marriage. How it had begun and how she wished it to proceed. The betrayal was still there, but it was muted by a sense of feeling loved. So many things spoke of it. The studio Haven had made for her. Remembering she hated mushrooms. Insisting she wear her spectacles. Logically, there wasn’t any way for Haven to have known she would paint a half-naked miniature of herself nor bestow it on Blythe. Hehadtried to get her to leave the study. Although he could have tried harder.
Did it matter any longer whether he had taken advantage of the situation?
She loved Haven. Forgave him. Believed him. He loved her, and while he hadn’t said the words, Haven had shown her in dozens of ways before that terrible day when her brother’s missive had arrived. In his eyes, Theo flared brilliantly. Such a feeling was worth fighting for. Cherishing. No matter how it began.
The sound of footsteps came toward the door. Haven. She knew what he sounded like.
He came into the room, peering at the bed to see if she was still awake.
“Hello, Ambrose.”
The bed dipped as he sat, eyes intent on her, devoid of his usual annoying comments. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here when I came up.” The words were hoarse as if they’d sat in his throat for days.
“I promised you I wouldn’t leave. And I could see you perfectly well, by the way,” she said in a saucy tone. “Or at least enough to notice which one of you was Erasmus.”
“You realize you didn’t hit him.”
“I clipped his ear.” She frowned slightly. “At least I think I did.”
His hand, warm and slightly calloused, cupped her cheek. “I missed you, Theodosia.” The low rumble whispered over her. “So much.”
“In addition to mushrooms,” she whispered, “I do not care for turnips. That is my truth. Now tell me yours.”
“I did plan to compromise you, just not at Blythe’s.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Thought about when I should do it. I had several opportunities, and dear God, Theodosia, if any woman was begging to be ruined, it was you.”
“You are doing a poor job at apologizing.” She looked away, the pain just as sharp as it had been when reading her brother’s letter. “I had hoped for something better.”
“Just listen.” He brushed her lips with his. “I also wanted you the moment I saw you.Onlyyou. I thought it fated that you were Murphy’s sister. A way of some higher power finally tipping the scales in my favor. A woman I desired who was also the solution to my problems. But I didn’t take the miniature from you that night to compromise you.”
“Then why?”
“I—” His voice grew thick with emotion. “I could not bear the thought of Blythe—or any other man—having you. I wanted it to bemeyou had painted it for. I wanted youin spite ofyou being Murphy’s sister. Had I not felt so deeply for you, I would have compromised you and taken your dowry without a second thought. I planned to be that ruthless. But in the end, I couldn’t. You can thank Lady Blythe for our marriage. And our wedding night, I just assumed—”
“Because of my enthusiasm?”
“Yes. Even you must admit, Theo, that most young ladies wouldn’t immediately take their husband’s cock in their mouth before being bedded for the first time. I assume you either read about it or witnessed it. Somehow.” He lay down beside her so they faced each other.
Theo felt warm and secure next to Haven, the gravelly sound of his voice soothing her.
“Elysium,” she blurted out. “I saw—” Theo felt her cheeks warm. “I snuck onto the second floor with Romy while Leo was otherwise occupied. I opened a door and witnessed—” She paused and cleared her throat as an image of she and Haven possibly doing that flashed before her. “Both parties seemed very pleased. So I thought you meant for me to do it.”
“You neglected to mention that.” He drew his fingers across her cheek, their noses almost touching.
“Just as you neglected to inform me that you blamed my brother for the ruination of your father. I find that more vitally important than whether I saw a woman put a man’s—”
“Cock,” he supplied helpfully.
“I understand why...” She hesitated. “I don’t like it, but I docomprehendwhy you sought to compromise me. But—”
A tremble ran through her as he pressed a tender kiss to the slope of her neck.
“You know, Ambrose, that your anger was directed at the wrong man, don’t you? My brother is hardly a paragon of morality, but even he draws the line at stealing dowries.”
“I do. And I plan to beg humble forgiveness.”
“I doubt you can do that. Be humble. Your pride won’t allow it.”
