Page 11 of The Marquess Method
Oh, no.No. No. No.
Theo’s lashes fluttered down across her cheeks. She was merely overwrought. Her eyesight was poor. Possibly in her current panic, she was seeing things or, in this case, seeing nothing at all. Cautiously, Theo opened her eyes again.
The chair was still empty.
Bollocks.
She was going to be sick all over Blythe’s perfectly neat stack of papers and leather-bound ledgers. The room tilted sharply to the right, and Theo grabbed the edge of the desk, fingers biting into the heavy wood as she tried to steady herself. There was an ugly paperweight in the shape of a bird sitting atop one of the ledgers. She thought it might be the same sort of bird displayed on the buttons of Blythe’s coats. Was it a goose with abnormally long legs?
Oh, good Lord. Who cares?
Slumping in horror and defeat, Theo cursed out loud at her poor luck, every vile word she’d ever heard eavesdropping on her brothers spewing from her lips. She pounded on the desk in frustration, rattling the ugly bird.
This was very bad.Anyonecould have the miniature. And while Theo hadn’tsignedthe miniature, nor enclosed a note, she would be recognized all the same.
I’ll be completely ruined. Perhaps banished. Dear God, when Tony finds out, he may even send me to a convent. In France.
She tried to picture herself as a penitent novice, head bent in contemplation and prayer. But at least she’d have plenty of time to paint. If convents allowed such things.
Breathe, Theo.
Looking down at her neckline, she tugged on the piping and lace edging her bodice, hoping to hide the spray of freckles. Impossible, as the small dots marring her skin stretched nearly to her collarbone. More noticeable than any birthmark. Thankfully, she’d brought a wrap with her tonight. A filmy thing that had been tossed about her shoulders by Mama only because so much of Theo’s chest was exposed. She could claim to be cold. Chilled. Place the wrap around her to cover the freckles. Yes. She stood, smoothing her skirts, and nodded to the room before casting a glance to the empty chair once more.
Perhaps the small box fell to the floor when she pushed the chair in?
Hope burst in her chest. Falling to her knees, Theo sank her fingers into the thick rug beneath the desk, feeling about with her hands for the familiar shape of the box. She should have moved the lamp so she could see better. Gaze fixed on her hands, she turned in a semi-circle, reaching under the chair to check between the legs before stopping as her fingers slid over something hard and smooth.
Theo swallowed. Her hand moved a few inches to the left, not daring to look up.
Boots. Two of them. Scuffed. Worn. No matter the amount of polish they’d been given.
Dozens of excuses for being found in Blythe’s study, on her knees, beneath his desk, during his birthday celebration ran through her mind. None of them sounded the least plausible.
The boots shifted as the gentleman they belonged to leaned down.
A spicy scent filled her nostrils.
Damn it.
“Looking for something, Lady Theodosia?”
3
Ambrose Collingwood, Marquess of Haven, looked down into the defiant, shocked face of Theodosia Barrington and wished he’d just compromised her in the park the other day as he’d meant to. Because clearly, if any woman was begging to be ruined, it was the gorgeous half-blind ninny crawling around the rug at his feet.
His fingers rubbed against the small box sitting in his pocket, remembering the contents.Christ, she might have already achieved ruination on her own.
Theodosia bumped her head on the top of the desk, and Ambrose winced in sympathy. If she didn’t start wearing her bloody spectacles, she might physically hurt herself.
The moment Theodosia had arrived tonight in the company of Lady Richardson and her daughter, Ambrose’s eyes had been drawn to her stunning form. Watching as she took careful steps because she couldn’t see anything, his attention had stayed solely on her and not Miss Emerson, who was attempting a rather amusing story about a foxhunt. Miss Emerson was lovely. Wealthy. And very much the sort of woman who Ambrose should be pursuing for a wife.
However, she wasn’t Theodosia Barrington.
Ambrose found himself unable to look away and not only because he lived in a constant state of terror she was going to go tumbling into a wall or down a flight of stairs. A wealth of emotions—lust, vengeance, jealousy, guilt—all flooded through him at the sight of her. The combination was a potent invitation for Ambrose to behave badly around Theodosia, which he always did. Relentlessly teasing her. Kissing her at Granby’s. Stalking her through the park intent on ruining her and then at the last moment, finding himself unable to do so.
In truth, he’d wavered because he was unsure if his desire for her wasbecauseTheodosia was Leo Murphy’s sister, or in spite of it.
“Lord Haven.” Theodosia looked up, blinking at him, perhaps hoping he was a hallucination. Or possibly she couldn’t see him clearly. He’d no idea how terrible her eyesight really was. Despite being so impaired, Theodosia had the loveliest eyes. Shards of blue with a darker circle of indigo around the pupils.
