Page 3 of The Marquess Method
Another roll of his shoulders.
“I assumed you to be Blythe,” she informed him again.
“No one else confuses the two of us.”
Haven was ahorribleperson. He deserved his impoverishment. Even if he looked somewhat magnificent in Blythe’s borrowed evening wear.
“You are a —” She choked, trying to find the appropriate word.
“Bastard? Rogue?” he supplied. “Personally, I prefer libertine. Has a nice ring to it.” He cocked his head. “Come, Lady Theodosia, you can do better than that. Your brother owns a pleasure palace.”
“Gambling hell,” she corrected automatically. None of the Barringtons liked to acknowledge that the club owned by Theo’s two brothers, Leo Murphy and His Grace, the Duke of Averell, was more than a place to play cards and roulette. A gambling hell was marginally more acceptable. “I should slap you for the liberties you’ve taken.”
Haven turned so his cheek faced her, waving her forward. “Have at it.” A bit of light bathed his roguish features and glinted on the dusting of dark hair along his jaw. “Won’t change a thing.”
He had a very strong jaw. Lovely lines. Lots of contrast. Interesting little details like the scar on his chin. He’d make a fabulous drawing in charcoal. Possibly a miniature. Though she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to cart around a picture of Haven in the pocket of their gown.
“You’re only put out because you enjoyed it.”
Heat washed up her cheeks. Shehadenjoyed it. Theo could still feel the press of his mouth against hers and the responding ache sliding down her midsection.
“DidI enjoy it?” Theo leaned forward before making a great show of wiping his taste from her lips with one gloved hand. “You overestimate your meager charms. Step aside, my lord.”
The amusement faded from his roughly hewn features. Insults didn’t sit well with Haven. One only had to count the number of fistfights and duels he was rumored to engage in. Theo’s gaze took in the tiny bump on his otherwise perfect nose.
Probably where that came from. A fistfight.
“Wear your bloody spectacles, Lady Theodosia,” he snarled at her. “Else there’s no telling who else you’ll mistake for Blythe.”
“As long as it isn’t you,” she said. No one at the house party save her sister Romy knew Theo wore spectacles. Not even Cousin Winnie had ever seen her wear them. How in the world did Haven know?
They glared at each other, unmoving, as the air around them crackled and popped, thickening as if a thunderstorm would erupt in Granby’s hallway.
His eyes drifted to her mouth.
Theo swallowed and took a careful step back. She had the most terrible urge to leap into his arms and allow him to kiss her again.
His fingers stretched out to her. “Theodosia.” The soft whisper was like a wisp of smoke snaking along her body.
Theo danced away, shaking her head to dispel any notion of being close to Haven. She turned her back on him and fled in the direction of the ballroom. The intoxication of his kiss still lingered, though she willed it away.
For the first time since the house party had begun, Theo couldn’t wait to leave.
1
London, Some months later.
Theo marched into the park just as the sun was beginning to pinken the sky, thinking how fortunate it was that the Averell mansion backed up to the rolling expanse of grass and trees. The park was easily reached through the mansion’s garden gate, usually kept locked to avoid any unwanted guests from wandering onto her brother’s property. Something that had never happened. The Averell footmen were incredibly vigilant.
When it came to someone slippingintoher brother’s garden.
No one spared Theo a glance as she left her bed before the sun was up and made her way down the double staircase. Or if they had, they’d chosen not to pay attention. Not an unusual occurrence. Theo was used to moving quietly through the house, unnoticed except by perhaps Pith, their butler.
Phaedra, Theo’s younger sister, would have drawn notice immediately. She demanded attention. Olivia, her mother’s ward, wouldneversneak into the park without escort at the crack of dawn.
If any one of them possessed an ounce of ladylike decorum, it was Olivia.
And Theo’s elder sister, Romy? Now married, she no longer lived at the Averell mansion. Instead, Romy resided with the immense block of stone everyone in London referred to as the Duke of Granby. The newlywed pair had left only yesterday for an extended tour of Italy and wouldn’t return for several months.
