Page 58 of The Marquess Method (The Beautiful Barringtons 3)

How old was Jacinda, exactly? Theo took in her delicate bone structure and petite form. Haven said his sister was about the same age as Phaedra, but her eyes belied the hardship she’d endured, making her seem far older than she was. Her heart ached for her new sister-in-law, stuck in the country with only her daft uncle and Mrs. Henderson.

“The windows need to be cleaned from top to bottom,” Theo stated. She knew that much at least. “The floors scrubbed until they shine.” An image took shape in her mind. Rather like one of her miniatures. Only larger. “What would you think of a reading nook, just there by the window? Comfortable chairs. Lots of cushions. Several small tables.”

Nodding eagerly in agreement, Jacinda said, “Perhaps a small settee?”

“Of course, if you wish it.”

Jacinda’s excitement faded as she looked down at her feet. “Won’t you need to ask my brother first? It all sounds lovely but rather expensive. He may not approve, and I’ve no wish to upset him.”

“Haven has made it clear I’m to take over the care of Greenbriar, or at least the portion we’ll live in.” She’d no intention of cozying up to Haven in the drawing room and studying fabric samples with him. “And I’m obscenely wealthy.” Theo winked at her. “Expense is the least of your worries.”

The smile returned. “Ambrose told me you are an artist. You paint and sketch. He said your work consists mainly of miniatures and is some of the finest he’s ever seen.” Her cheeks pinked. “The miniature you painted for him as a betrothal gift is exquisite, at least from what Ambrose tells me. A self-portrait.” A wistful look crossed her face. “How romantic of you, Theo.”

“Yes, terribly romantic of me.” It was obvious Haven hadn’t shared theexactnature of the miniature, nor the circumstances of his marriage to Theo, with his sister. A good thing, because Theo would be hard-pressed to look Jacinda in the eye. How like Haven to have turned his thievery into a romantic gesture.

Wretch.

A smile tugged at Theo’s lips. “My finest and final miniature,” she declared. “I’m moving on to painting on a larger canvas.”

“You are?” Jacinda said hopefully. “Perhaps you would paint something for the library.”

“It would be my honor.” Theo pulled her rambling thoughts away from Haven. She was still nursing the wounds he’d inflicted earlier today.

“Shall we go upstairs? Unless you wish to see my brother’s study?”

“No. I believe I’ll save that for later.” Theo didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into Haven yet, though she wasn’t sure he was even in the house. Since coming inside with Jacinda, Theo had seen nothing of her husband. Perhaps he’d abandoned her again. Or he was giving her temper time to cool.

Jacinda led her up the stairs, pointing out where not to place her feet as at least two of the steps sported small, cracked boards. How the poor girl managed to make her way to her room without injuring herself on a daily basis shocked Theo. The library would not be the first thing repaired. These stairs would.

And the bannister, Theo thought ruefully as the beautifully carved wood tilted dangerously beneath her fingers. The entire house was battered and bruised, begging for someone to care for it.

Once they reached the landing, Jacinda pointed to a hallway to her left. “Guest rooms for guests we no longer receive. I’m not sure what we’ll find in them, Theo. They’ve been shut for some time. This is the family wing,” she said, starting down the hall leading to the right. There wasn’t so much as a small table on which to set a lamp, and the walls, much like those below, were devoid of any art or personal effects. “These are your rooms.” Jacinda stopped before a door, a look of trepidation on her pretty face. “When your maid arrived, Mrs. Henderson showed her up. I believe she’s been unpacking your things.”

“Betts.” Oh, dear. Poor Betts. Theo hadn’t spared her a thought. Between the argument with Haven this morning and their arrival at Greenbriar, Theo had forgotten all about her maid. Ashamed, she stepped ahead of Jacinda, her only thought to greet the stalwart, faithful Betts and seeing a familiar face. A small, unwelcome sound burst from between her lips as she opened the door.

Betts stood at the far end of a very large, spartan room next to a dresser, muttering to herself. Theo’s valise stood next to her feet. Behind Betts rose a small mountain of Theo’s trunks, most of which had not been unpacked.

Because there was nowhere to put Theo’s clothing.

The armoire, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the enormous bed sitting atop a raised dais, wasn’t overly large. She could see the sleeves of one of her dresses poking from behind the doors of the armoire. There didn’t appear to be room for anything else. Haven’s clothing must be in the dresser.

Oh, dear.

“My lady.” Betts came forward with a forced smile. She was a plump, no-nonsense girl, cousin to Romy’s maid, Daisy, and as loyal as they came. A sideways glance from Betts told Theo everything she needed to know about the situation at Greenbriar.

At least the room was large, though without proper furniture, the area seemed especially cavernous. The windows, as filthy as those in the library, overlooked the mangled remains of a garden and part of the drive circling the front of the house.

“I cleaned as best I could, my lady,” Betts whispered out of the corner of her mouth, sparing a glance at Jacinda. “She’s a sweet one, is Lady Jacinda. And I didn’t wish to upset her.”

Theo looked toward the door leading to an adjoining room.

“There is an adjoining room, Lady Theodosia, but no bed,” Betts murmured. “No armoire. No furniture of any kind. The room looks as if it were stripped. Nothing left.”

Theo’s stomach sank. No wonder Haven said there would be no distance in their marriage. It was physically impossible unless she wanted to sleep elsewhere.

“I see.” Theo didn’t bother looking around for a valet. She had the impression Haven no longer had one.

“I know it all needs,” Jacinda hesitated, “work.” She shifted back and forth on her feet, leaning on the cane and looking utterly devastated. “I am sorry for the poor welcome.”

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