Page 23 of A Duchess to Unravel
“How many times?” He demanded. “How many times have you gone alone? How many times did you risk your reputation by being careless?”
“As many times as I needed!” She shouted back, losing control of her emotions. “Our mother was dying, Tristan, a horrid, slow death, and we were forced to watch it! Do you have any idea what that did to me?! How lonely it made me feel, how it had me wishing,needingto be someone else?!”
The anger in Tristan’s eyes fled, replaced with pity.
“Theo,” he said softly. “I know it has been a hard year, that you have struggled--”
Theo shot to her feet, the skirts of her sage green day-gown rustling against the table.
“I am done with this conversation,” she stated, shoving her chair back.
“We should talk about this,” Tristan insisted, rising from his own seat.
“Perhaps,” she agreed, “But not to one another. I am going to go to Rose’s.”
“Theo, do not go,” Tristan implored, “Not like this.”
“You bade me to reunite with my friends!” She shouted, turning to him as she reached the door. “That is what I am doing.”
“Theo, please,” he implored, coming around the table after her.
Theo spun, thrusting her palms into the dining room’s double door to throw them open, and walked with a quickness to the foyer. She called for her hat and parasol as she made her way to the door and snatched them from the butler just as he pulled them from the hook for her.
She kept her quick pace as she moved down the walk in front of their house, until she reached the front gate, and only when she made it to the street where others were walking did she begin to slow down. They stared at her oddly, making her feel bare, as if they could see her pounding heart, her pain. Yet she raised her head defiantly, tied her hat under her chin, raised her parasol, and walked with pride to Rose’s house.
“Theo,” Rose said with surprise when she came to the door.
“May I come in?” Theo asked readily, forgoing pleasantries. “Your butler said I must wait outside for you. Quite rude.”
A look of uncertainty crossed over Rose’s face, and she bit her bottom lip.
“I ... umm …” Rose murmured.
“Rose, darling? Who is that?” Rose’s mother called from inside.
Rose let out a sigh, and Theo’s worry for herself instantly evaporated. It had been a long time since she’d had any conversations with her friends about their lives. The last she’d heard from Rose was that her mother was growing painfully insistent, but the look on Rose’s face presently spoke to more than that.
“It is Theo, Mama,” Rose called back. “She has asked me to Promenade with her.”
“I’m sorry,” Theo apologized, “Is this a bad--”
Theo stopped talking as the door suddenly swung open wider, and Rose’s mother came into view, smiling far too wide, eyes far too watery and bright. And the scent of gin wafting strongly from her person.
“Why, Theo Briarwood,” Rose’s mother sighed, then pouted. “You poor girl. Losing your mother like that. Come in, come in.”
“We were just going for a walk, Mama,” Rose reiterated.
“Pshh, you can wait a few moments,” her mother slurred, reaching for Theo’s arm.
Theo gave Rose an apologetic look as she was pulled inside, but Rose only shook her head and gave her a small smile.
“My, my, tell me how you have been,” her mother insisted, “We have not seen you about in ages!”
“Oh, well, you know. Mourning tends to … isolate a person at times.” Theo struggled to respond.
Inside and now so close to her, the scent of gin was stronger, as were the signs that Lady Gravesmoor was not doing well. Her light blonde curls were frizzy and unkempt, her cosmetics, usually so well put on, were smeared on her cheeks and lips.
“Poor thing,” she pouted, pulling Theo into a tight, extremely out of character hug. “There, there. All will be well. I know death, darling, and it is a hard thing to deal with indeed. But you will find your way.”
