* * *
Bernadette had mentioned, more than once, to Theo that he’d had a great many lovers. But as he sat at his desk, drumming his fingers along the great cherry wood top, he was trying to recall them all. It was an exercise not meant to be braggadocios, but more to settle his uncommonly unsettled nerves. He needed to remember that he knew how to do this, how to be in a physical relationship with a wildly beautiful woman and not let his heart get involved.
He needed the reminder because he was far too uneasy as he awaited Etta’s return for their night together. He kept checking the clock, straightening his clothing, running a hand through his hair…Christ, he’d had to leave his bedchamber entirely because he kept moving candles around to find a perfect placement.
This was not him. This was not what he did or how he ever felt. He was put to mind of what Callum had said earlier in the day. That when he was with Bernadette, he was a new Theo. But he didn’t want tobea new Theo. Did he?
“Your Grace?” Kimball said from the door.
Theo straightened. “Yes?”
“She has arrived, sir. All has been arranged. Supper will be served in half an hour.”
“Thank you. She’s in the west parlor, then?”
Kimball inclined his head. “Yes. Is there anything else I can provide?”
“No, you’ve been helpful, as always, Kimball. I appreciate you and the staff more than I likely express.”
For a moment his butler’s expression softened. Theo had known this man his entire life. Kimball had served his father, after all, before him. He’d always been a kind and steady presence. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure,” he said softly. “As is the duchess. Always so kind.”
Theo tensed, not because Kimball wasn’t correct—Etta was nothing but kind. She was kindness personified, a light that glowed out from inside of her and made everyone around her feel…safer. Better. More whole. Welcomed.
No, he tensed because he realized that his butler thought Theo was…courtingEtta, though perhaps not in the most traditional way. Kimball believed she would one day have a place in this home, providing his servants with guidance, his halls with laughter and sweetness.
“Thank you again,” he croaked.
Kimball’s brow wrinkled but he didn’t say anything further, just inclined his head and left Theo to his own devices. But Theo didn’t want to be left to those, nor to his tangled thoughts. He was confusing this issue, somehow, conflating head with heart, body with soul. And the best way to avoid that was to march into that parlor and let the games begin.
Certainly he would recall himself once he did that.
He smoothed his jacket and exited the study, taking long breaths as he made the short walk to the west parlor, which connected to the dining room next door through a pocket door. He found Etta there, standing in the middle of the room, looking just as nervous as he felt. Somehow that was comforting and he smiled at her as he entered.
She didn’t say anything, but crossed to him silently and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was stunned by the forward action but didn’t fight it. He pulled her closer and kissed her. It was like they’d been separated for weeks, not hours, as she lifted into him with a shuddering sigh and returned his kiss with fervor. He sank into the feel of her, the sweet taste of her, the comfort of her. There was nothing else in the world right now but this.
And it would have been so easy to forget everything else and just take her upstairs for a night together. But to do that would imply a lack of control. He needed to retain his senses for a variety of reasons in this situation. So he managed to extract himself from her, loving how her pupils were dilated, how her breath was short as she stared up at him.
“That was a proper ‘good evening,’” he teased.
She laughed and the tension in the room dissipated immediately. Despite the passion that pulsed between them, she was his friend again, one he valued, and that made it easier.
“How was your afternoon?” she asked as he walked to the sideboard and pointed to the liquor there. “Oh, no, thank you. I want to keep my wits a little, at least.”
“Wits are overrated, my dear,” he said, and elicited another laugh from her. God, he loved doing that. Loved making her break into a wide smile that brightened her entire being. “And my afternoon was very quiet after a certain distraction departed my company in a cloud of vanilla musky sweetness.” She blushed and it felt like he’d caught the moon. “How was yours?”
“Lovely,” she said with a sigh. “Valaria is deliriously happy and excited for her excursion with Callum. I will miss her while she’s gone, but to see her so content after everything she went through…”
“It’s wonderful, I agree,” he said, serious in that statement. Their eyes met and they both smiled, a shared joy for their dearest friends. “And wonderful that their leaving gives us a little privacy.”
She shifted, uncertainty crossing her face. “I admit I’m surprised this is how you’d use that privacy. I thought you’d just sweep me away.”
God, but he wanted to do just that. But again, the feeling made him out of control. He cleared his throat. “We have all night for what will come next. Why shouldn’t we share a lovely meal together and not put pressure on what will absolutely come to pass?”
“I suppose,” she said carefully. “But you said something to me the other day and I want to repeat it to you.” He tilted his head and she moved toward him a step. “If you change your mind, if you don’t want this anymore…I want you to tell me. If there is to be consent, it must be from both parties.”
He stared at her, seeing how much that statement stung her by the worry on her face, and yet she made it anyway. A way to protect him. A way to give him an out he most definitely didn’t want. But since he didn’t think anyone had ever considered giving him that out…it meant something.
“You have my enthusiastic consent, Etta,” he said softly. “I will prove that to you later. But waiting sometimes makes the surrender all the sweeter.”
