She clung to him even more tightly. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, you wretch.” He brought her hand to his mouth and gave it a swift kiss. “I’ll be back soon.” And with that, with a lingering glance at her, he left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Theo undressed in record time, sliding under her covers and asking her maid to summon Nathanial. He entered almost immediately, closing the door behind him, and she frowned.
“Did you wait outside?”
“Where else was I supposed to go?” he asked with a small smile. “Now, my love, are you sure you’re not too tired?”
“Certain. We are having this conversation, no matter how much you want to put it off.”
“It appears I’m distressingly transparent,” he murmured, sitting on the bed beside her, one leg dangling.
“Tell me,” she urged, looking up at him and the sharpness of his profile. He didn’t have a hard face, but there was something cutting about it tonight. “Tell me what happened between you and Sir Montague.”
“The truth is, it’s hardly my story to tell.”
“I know he pursued Penelope,” Theo interrupted. “Of course, I don’t know the details, but I fancy I know enough.”
“The devil is in the details, or so they say.” Nathanial took her hand and played with her fingers almost absently. “Pursuedis not a term that gives justice to the way he persistently attempted to take her virtue.”
“Did he succeed?”
“That is not for me to say. And if you bring the subject up with Penelope, I would advise being careful. She is not . . . Let us say she is not Sir Montague’s greatest friend.”
“I should think not.” Theo paused and looked at Nathanial’s long fingers wrapped around hers. He hardly seemed to know he was doing it at all, but tingling warmth spread through her body at his touch, and she felt oddly hot. “Is that why you don’t like him?”
“In part.”
“Is there another reason?”
“There is always another reason,” he said, and sighed, glancing down at her and meeting her gaze for one long moment before looking away. “When I was a young man—no more than a child, really—I fancied myself in love. She was a particularly nice, well-bred young lady of unexceptional birth and an excellent education.”
Theo found herself hating this nameless young lady already.
“The issue lay that she found her affections to be already engaged—and to Montague, no less.”
At least she did not love Nathanial back. Theo wasn’t entirely certain why this was important, but it seemed far more pressing than whatever Montague had done to her. “And this was after he attempted to compromise Penelope?”
“After, by a couple of years. My family had all gathered around Pen, you understand, but at that age, I was singularly foolish, as young men tend to be. I loved my sister, yes, but I thought it not unreasonable that a young, hot-blooded man might want more than he could have.” Here, he paused, and she placed her other hand across his impulsively. He glanced down at the contact. “I forgave Montague, thinking histransgressions were natural, not considering how easily men could turn elsewhere to satiate their needs.”
Theo did not want to think about Nathanial turning elsewhere for his needs, and she scowled. “What of this paragon of all things you thought yourself in love with?”
“Lucy was a dear but at no point did she love me, and in retrospect at no point did I love her. The issue came when Montague, whom she believeddidlove her, took certain liberties. When her father confronted him and demanded satisfaction—”
“No.” Theo sat straight up. “Thatwas the duel that sent Sir Montague out of the country?”
“It was,” Nathanial confirmed gravely. “Lucy was sent into the country to bear his child, and I believe she has since married. Montague chose to flee.”
“And now he’s back,” Theo said wonderingly.
“He heard of my marriage and I presume he wanted to assure himself there would be no heir, as he stands to inherit.”
She wrinkled her nose. “He would make a terrible duke.”
“I quite agree.”
