If anything, landing Lady Beatrice was a coup. Her father outranked his. And although Theo’s future marquessate did not lack for coin, Lady Beatrice’s dowry was eye-watering indeed.
What did it matter if he could not abide her personality?
He glared down at the letter in his hands. He did not need to unfold it for the tenth time to know what it said. This was a summons.
She dared to command him.
Their fathers had made their intentions known years before, but no contracts had been signed and Theo had made no promises.
Lady Beatrice felt it was time for that to change. Since her come-out three years earlier, she had quite enjoyed her reign among the other young ladies.
Theo preferred to make fewer waves. His unblemished reputation had kept him out of the caricatures and the society columns… until now. Apparently, his accomplishments at war had turned him into some sort of mystical hero.
Lady Beatrice had not missed his presence during her prior three Seasons. But now that his famein absentiahad eclipsed hers in person, his intended felt the time was ripe to make their betrothal official. She would become the toast of thetonovernight.
He wheeled himself closer to the fireplace in order to toss Lady Beatrice’s elegant penmanship into the crackling flames.
Theo had always known the chit was far more eager to reap the privilege that came with being a future marchioness than she was interested in him specifically.
Such pragmatism had never bothered him. He could not claim to feel differently, when they were both commodities. That was howtonmarriages worked. He would marry her eventually, but Theo would be the one to decide when.
He had no intention of presenting himself next to the queen of the ball like some species of prized pet. Lady Beatrice might rule over other young ladies, but she would not rule him.
There was, however, one woman in London who Theo could be tempted to dance attendance upon.
This Season was his cousin Hester’s come-out.
A painfully shy wallflower, Hester had long been terrified she would suffer through her entire Season without a single gentleman offering to stand up with her for a dance.
Theo glared at his useless leg. If anyone deserved to be the toast of theton, it was Hester. The second he could dance again, he would ensure his name appeared on every one of her dance cards. He’d encourage his unmarried friends to follow suit until every man present realized just how special Hester was.
She needn’t worry. Theo would save the day. He just… needed a little time to heal.
Movement outside the open windows caused Theo to drag his gaze from the dancing orange flames out to the gently falling snow.
A young lady walked alone down the winding narrow path from the castle, accompanied only by a coal black cat with a tall plume of a tail, his paws obscured by snow.
Theo’s curiosity turned to growing disbelief as he watched the cat accompany its mistress like a dog. The beast hurried to her side after falling behind to sniff something. Glanced over his shoulder to ensure her impending arrival if it happened to prance too far ahead. Paused when she paused, continued when she continued. Theo watched, transfixed.
The closer the pair drew to Azureford’s cottage, the more details he could pick out.
The woman’s hair was the red-brown of autumn leaves. Her lips and cheeks were a flushed, becoming pink. Her coat was the same dark green as the snow-speckled forest behind her, her boots as dark black as the cat’s fur.
She was too old to be a debutante, too young to be on the shelf. Her attire appeared warm, serviceable, and well-tailored, but without any particular pretension toward current fashions.
In other words, the mystery lady was of indeterminate age, indeterminate background, indeterminateeverything.
Theo could not help but be intrigued.
Almost without fail, every person he came in contact with all but broadcast who and what they were. Not this woman. Even her cat made no bloody sense.
As he watched, she spied something in the trees just across the street from his window.
Without bothering to so much as glance over her shoulder to make eye contact with her pet, the woman held up a gloved palm and murmured, “Heel!” as if the ball of black fluff at her side actually was a dog.
Despite the pain, Theo could not help but indulge a small quirk of his lips at such folly. Obviously, a cat would never obey a command like—
His jaw fell open as the beast practically rolled its feline eyes in reluctant submission and sat on its haunches. How on earth…?
