“And you?” the Dowager asked, patting the seat beside her, which was, coincidentally, also beside Theo. “It would be advantageous for there to be a son and heir.”
Theo gripped her knees hard enough that her knuckles whitened.
“Two months into a marriage and you’re already anticipating grandchildren?” Nathanial raised a brow. “A little precipitous, Mama.”
“For a love match such as this, I would not have said so,” the Dowager said.
A love match. Theo had never hated three words the way she hated those.
“Come now,” the Dowager chided as Nathanial took his seat, “you are in safe company here. You are not obliged to sit stiffly beside one another.”
Perhaps, if she tried very hard, the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She cast around for a reason to leave the room—leave and possibly never return.
Nathanial stretched out his legs, looking for all the world as though he was perfectly comfortable where he was, his elbow almost brushing Theo’s. “My wife is feeling somewhat under the weather today,” he said blandly. “Are you not, my dear?”
“Only a little,” she said, summoning her courage and smiling at the Dowager. If Nathanial could play this game, so could she. “Nate has been so good as to care for me.” Fingers trembling, she placed a hand on his leg. He flinched under her touch. Just slightly, but enough for the shock to ricochet through her.
“Of course he has,” the Dowager said, sending her son an approving glance. “Well, I must be off. I have a great many calls to make.”
“We shall see Cassandra as soon as we can,” Theo promised as they stood. “Thank you for taking the time to call.”
“Goodbye,” the Dowager said, exiting the room much as she had entered: with a dramatic swirl of her skirts and a sense of indomitable force.
“Well,” Nathanial said coldly, as Theo rubbed nervous hands down her front. “I’ve been caring for you, have I?”
“You told your family that we were a love match—”
“I know where you were last night,” he said suddenly. “That little adventure you did not see fit to tell me, that you attended in the company of Sir Montague.”
So he did know she had gone. She waited for him to mention her activities in the garden, but he merely glared at her, waiting for her response. Perhaps he did not know after all. Relief felt thick against her tongue as she tucked her hands behind her back and cast her gaze to the floor. “Oh,” she managed.
“Have you nothing more to say for yourself?”
“I wish I had not gone,” she said, and thought she saw him stiffen. “It was a mistake. Is that what you would like me to say?”
Nathanial’s scorching gaze fixed on her for such a long time, she felt as though he was peeling aside every one of her layers to reveal her innermost thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was low. “The next time you see fit to go somewhere with Montague, you will inform me first.”
Theo was not entirely sure how it had happened, but they were now close enough that they could kiss. He was leaning down and her face tipped up to his. Warm breath flowered across her face and danced along her lips. If she wanted, she could reach up and bridge the distance between them, and that awareness washed over his face as clearly as it washed over hers. For a dizzying moment, she thought he would initiate.
“Do you understand me?” he demanded, leaning away. “That is the last time you go somewhere without my permission.”
“Permission?” Theo folded her arms. “I was under the impression that our arrangement didn’t require any form of permission.”
“Ourarrangementwas not so you could degrade yourself where anyone could have recognised you.”
“If you knew where I was,” she flashed, though she hardly knew what she was saying, “you must have known it was a masked event.”
“Montague—”
“Sir Montague is not your concern.”
“He is precisely my concern,” Nathanial said through gritted teeth. “If he had not taken you there, you would not have . . .” His throat worked. “You would have never thought to have gone without his influence.”
“You seem to think you know a lot about me,” she said, the tightness in her chest soaking through her until every muscle ached with tension. “I wonder if you know everything you think you do.”
“I know enough.”
Theo took a long breath, retreating into the formality that acted as a shield between them. “As you say, Your Grace.”
