Page 31 of The Marquess Method
She had returned to her mother’s side, held her chin up at a defiant angle, and ignored the whispers about her. She would have avoided her future husband for the remainder of the evening, except Haven had never returned to the party, abandoning her to the wolves, so to speak. Theo had refused to glance in Blythe’s direction again. It was time for her to consider the future.
She brushed the edge of her chin with the tip of her paintbrush.
The feelings Haven inspired in Theo were not welcome. Losing the upper hand at the critical beginning of their marriage would be a disaster. She couldn’t afford to, not until they’d reached some sort of understanding. Yes, Haven might find her appealing. After all, he’d kissed her twice, but—there was norealaffection between them.
But might there be?
Theo shook her head, not wishing to consider something more than a marriage of convenience only to be disappointed later. She wasn’t a good judge of a man’s intentions, given her experience with Blythe. She didn’t trust the attraction between her and Haven. Or her own instincts. Far better to set down some rules with Haven to protect her future self. The discussion was long overdue.
She exhaled, watching as her breath fogged the glass of the window. Of course, it was impossible to have such a discussion before the wedding if Haven continued to ignore her. Since Lady Molsin’s ill-fated gathering, Theo’s future husband hadn’t called. Not once. Which only added more fuel to her decision to reach an understanding with him. Society was littered with the deflated hearts of young ladies who’d found themselves in the same situation, mistaking that what their husbands desired most was them and not just their dowry. It would be easy to confuse physical attraction with affection, especially where Haven was concerned. Theo did not mean to be one of those young ladies. When Haven wandered off to his slew of mistresses, Theo promised herself she’d barely notice.
Theo frowned, the brush pausing beneath her nose. How many was a slew exactly?
Giving a sigh of exasperation, she lowered her hand. What difference would it make? Haven could have a slew, or a herd, or an entireflockof courtesans for all she cared. Whatwasimportant was that Theo kept their marriage from becoming anything other than what it was: an unfortunate accident. Although, she supposed from Haven’s perspective, the incident in Blythe’s study had been fortuitous. He would no longer be impoverished, for one thing.
All because of the miniature.
Theodosia’s Great Folly.
She lived in terror that Haven, desperate for coin before he received her dowry, might have sold the miniature. What if it ended up in the collection of a respected member of Parliament, for instance? During a party at this hallowed personage’s home, Theo would admire her host’s paintings and other objects d’art, only to come across the miniature of her half-naked breasts.
She butted her head against the glass, cringing at the mere thought. What if Freddie, her nephew, should come across the miniature when he was older, recognizing Auntie Theo? How absolutely horrifying.
“Careful, you’ll break the glass.”
The scratchy tenor pricked against her skin as Theo turned to face him. Annoyance filled her, mainly because she’d convinced herself he’d done something terrible with the miniature, but there was something else. A weakening of her knees. A soft flutter inside her chest.
The late afternoon sun set fire to the glints in his hair as Haven moved closer, giving him the sheen of copper. He was dressed in a lovely coat the color of freshly tilled soil and fawn riding breeches. The coat looked new, but the rest of his ensemble had seen better days.
Haven moved gracefully toward her, easily sidestepping the heaps of canvas, rags, paint, and other bits littering the floor of her studio. His agile movements added to the impression of him as a tomcat, as he deftly missed stepping on the small rosewood box which held her paints.
“Christ, what a mess.” There was no real rebuke in his words. The very edges of his mouth were tipped up at the corners, showing the gleam of even, white teeth.
Oh, how I want to paint him.
“How do you ever find anything in this mess given you are half-blind?”
“An excellent reason for you to leave, my lord. I wouldn’t want you to trip,” she shot back. Theo wasn’t, by nature, very organized. The clutter surrounding her was the bane of her maid, Betts, who spent most of her day cleaning up after her. More importantly, Theo had no desire to pick things up just to please Haven.
His smile broadened, sending a burst of warmth in Theo’s direction, eyes lingering over her face where her hated spectacles, in all their metal and glass glory, sat on her nose.
“I realize you aren’t good at subtle hints to leave, my lord. So, allow me to be blunt.” She pointed at the door with her paintbrush. Theo really wasn’t in the mood for Haven’s dubious charm, not after suffering through the evening at Lady Molsin’s and the delightful small items printed about her in the gossip columns since then. She wondered if he’d seen them.
She returned her attention to the park.
This morning’s paper had contained a simply delightful item about Theo and provided all the proof she needed that Lady Molsin’s efforts had been in vain. Among the reports of gowns and balls, there had been a mention of the reckless nature of Theodosia Barrington. A girl who had gotten exactly what she deserved after her brazen pursuit of Lord Blythe. Accompanying this thinly veiled attack on Theo’s character had been a satirical drawing depicting Theo popping out from behind a potted fern to surprise Blythe, only to find herself faced with Haven. Piles of gold coins were falling from beneath Theo’s skirts as Haven salivated.
The artist hadn’t even been very good.
Silly. Frivolous. Reckless. Brazen. All things Theodosia had never thought would ever be said about her. It was humiliating and made Theo wish to stow away on the first ship to America and beg sanctuary from Leo, who was still in New York.
“I’m surprised Pith let you into the house,” she said as he took a spot near the window. “Or showed you up to my studio.” Theo turned to face him. “He doesn’t like you. Nor does my brother. I’m sure we’ll be adding to the list as time goes on.”
The late afternoon sun sifted through the russet waves of Haven’s hair as he came closer. The color was like maple leaves in autumn that had fallen to cover the ground, tickling your ankles when you rushed through them. The urge to paint him became stronger. Her fingers twitched against the brush.
“Your butler is a menace. Phaedra let me in.”
Theo considered her younger sister nothing short of traitorous. Phaedra had formed an attachment to Haven, informing the family over dinner just the other night that he had promised to practice fencing with her once she’d taken proper lessons. Not one to be put off the slightest that the daughter of a duke shouldn’t be fencing, Phaedra had requested that Tony find a fencing instructor for her as soon as possible. And she was giving up the violin. A collective sigh of relief had flooded the table. Phaedra’s playing of the violin tortured the ears. She’d started out well enough, but instead of improvement, her mastery of the instrument had gone in the other direction.
