“I can finish it at breakfast. But I must rise quickly.”
Betsy had come with her from her parents’ house and no doubt recognised the expression on Theo’s face, but they had been together too long for her to attempt arguing. “Yes, ma’am.”
Impatiently, Theo entered her dressing room and rifled through her wardrobe until she found a blue walking dress that suited her purpose. It brought out the colour of her eyes and,so she thought, flattered her figure admirably. Now she was a duchess, she could commission more dresses than she knew what to do with, but this remained her favourite.
As soon as she was dressed, she hurried downstairs and into the breakfast room—only to pull up short at the sight of Nathanial already seated with a newspaper open before him.
“Nate,” she said in shock. “What are you doing here?”
He gestured to his tea. “Eating breakfast, as you can see.”
“Yes, but—it’s before eleven.”
“I agree, it’s dreadfully early. Yet here you are.”
She swallowed, the words of their argument hanging between them. This was precisely the awkwardness she had hoped to avoid. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but—”
“If you call meYour Graceonce more, I will throw this tea at you,” he warned. “Now why don’t you sit down?”
A reluctant smile touched her mouth. “Youareobnoxious, Nate, coming downstairs to prevent me from sneaking away.”
“I thought that might be your plan, but I didn’t want you to leave before I’d had a chance to speak with you.”
“Another scolding?” she asked, folding her arms. “Because if it is, you know I won’t stay and listen.”
“Wretch,” he said, but an answering smile lit his eyes, and he held out his hand to her. “Come here, you abominable brat, and stop looking at me like I’m about to bite.”
Cautiously, she placed her hand in his and his fingers curled around hers. His gaze travelled across her face for a long moment, dropping from her eyes to her mouth in a way that, for an unaccountable reason, made her heart pound. The trace of a frown appeared between his eyes and he released her hand a little too fast. “Can you forgive me?” he asked.
He was impossible. She scowled. “Will you not allow me to be angry at you?”
“Ideally not.”
Finally, she took a seat beside him. “I suppose I ought not to have said some of the things I did, either.”
“And I suppose I should be content with that as your apology.”
“Youwerebeing unreasonable,” she reminded him.
“If I was, it was not without provocation. But,” he added, sobering, “my anger was not at you and I should have directed it to its proper place.”
“Why do you hate Sir Montague so much?”
“Aside from the fact he tried to steal my wife from me?”
She bit her lip, but could not hide her smile. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Very well. Let us just say there is bad blood between us, and while I’m sure he was charming—Penelope could tell you, indeed, how very charming he can be—his motives are unlikely to be pure.”
“I can handle myself, Nathanial.”
“Can you? You don’t know what he’s capable of, Theo.”
“And what?” she challenged, meeting his gaze, “is he capable of?”
His smile was grim. “Everything you could possibly imagine.”
At around midday, the butler knocked on Nathanial’s study door. “Sir Montague to see you,” he said. The butler, having been a loyal devotee of the family for a number of years, did not attempt to hide the disapproving ring to his voice. Sir Montague was well known to the retainers, and not for anything good.
