“Never,” he said and meant it down to his soul.
She pushed her food around her plate, and he could see her mustering her will to talk about this subject. She took a bite, chewed carefully and said, “Then I’ll tell you everything, Theo.”
CHAPTER10
In the time since Bernadette had met Flora and Valaria, they’d had many conversations about their late husbands. She had certainly given a few vague descriptions of her past with Tunbridge. But now, sitting at Theo’s elbow, his attention fixed entirely on her, she wanted to give more. Wanted him to understand, because she had the strangest feeling that hewould. That she would be seen, perhaps for the first time in her life.
It was a bewitching idea.
“I had…hopes when I married him. Tunbridge. George.” Her late husband’s given name seemed so foreign on her tongue. “I knew there had been some arranged marriages where love developed between the two parties. I told myself I would love him. And that I would give him no reason not to love me.”
Theo winced at that statement but was kind enough not to interrupt her.
The next part was hard and she struggled with the words she’d never spoken to any other person on this earth. “He hated any overture I made toward him.” She whispered it so it wouldn’t be so powerful. “He made it clear he didn’t want my affection. He hardly wanted my body at all, he treated it like a duty he was forced to fulfill. I thought perhaps he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing, that he wasn’t built with passion as a driving force. But now…”
“Now?” Theo said, and he reached over to cover her hand with his.
It was such a simple action, one not born of desire or passion. This was comfort and she blinked at unexpected tears at the warmth of him, both physical and emotional. She was a fool to lean into it, but she couldn’t help it.
“I discovered the Donville Masquerade in some of his letters I found while cleaning out a space in the attic,” she explained.
“Oh,” Theo said with a frown. “What kind of letters?”
“One from the club, itself, instating a ban on him for bad behavior.” She shook her head. “I cannot imagine how awful he must have been to break the simple rules Mr. Rivers puts in place for the protection of all involved. But he did. And I realized when I was standing in the club last night, watching all those people crash together like wild waves of a beautiful shore, that Tunbridgedidwant passion on some level. Just not with…not with me.”
She said that out loud and it felt like the air had been sucked out of her chest. Not because she cared about the late duke—that ship had long since sailed. But because his lack of desire for her was so patently clear now that it reflected her own internal thoughts about herself. It multiplied the feeling that she was unwantable. That she was forgettable.
But when Theo looked at her, she felt none of those things. He wanted her and that felt like the gift of this affair, of his presence in her life. He continued to hold her gaze and there was something in his expression that was so raw that it couldn’t be real. She didn’t understand it.
“Etta,” he whispered.
The door to the dining room opened and the servants entered to take their plates. Theo held up a hand to stop them without looking at them. “A moment,” he said. “We won’t be having dessert.”
The servants backed away and the door was shut again, leaving them alone. He lifted his fingers to her cheek and traced the line of her jaw with his fingers. “Come upstairs with me,” he said softly.
She couldn’t have said no under any circumstances, not when his dark blue eyes were holding hers with such desire, such certainty. He wanted her. That went a long way in erasing the ugliness of the past.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He pushed back from the table and helped her to her feet. He held her hand as he guided her from the room and up to his chamber. She held her breath as he opened the door. She had been in his home several times in the last few months, since their little friendship group had spent so much time together. But she’d never been here.
They stepped into an antechamber with a writing desk and chairs before a fireplace. He locked the door and then pulled her farther into the room. Into the bedroom, and she caught her breath. Candles had been placed all over, though not lit. He frowned.
“We’re ahead of schedule in my ardor, so my servants haven’t finished,” he said. “Allowmeto prepare the room for you, Your Grace.”
She watched as he walked over and lit a wooden splint from one of the flames in the lamp, then moved around the room to light the candles. He tossed the splint into the fire and then went about lowering the lamps so they were soon bathed in only fire and candlelight, which made everything softer and more dreamy.
He stopped at the edge of the big bed and took her in. Then he asked, “How do you want to feel, Etta?”
He’d asked her this same question the night before, it stunned her just as much now. She’d never had anyone in her life care so much about her reactions and emotions. But this man was entirely focused on both.
Still, she saw a flicker of something beyond desire to his stare. She’d seen it in the dining room, as well. She frowned. “I can tell you how I don’t want to feel: pitied.”
“I don’t pity you,” he said, immediately and with strength.
She wanted to believe him but folded her arms nonetheless. “Are you sure? When I told you my pathetic story, I thought I saw a flash of that emotion.”
He shook his head slowly and now he did move toward her. When he reached her, he gently uncrossed her arms. He lifted one of her hands to rest on his shoulder as he kissed her knuckles lightly.
