“Good evening, Theo,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as sour as he claimed she sounded.
“Etta,” he drawled, and she stiffened as tingles moved up her spine both at the seductive tone to his voice and the fact that he used a shortened version of her name. He was the only person left on this earth who called her Etta.
She wasn’t sure if she liked that or feared it and the reactions it caused in her.
“You aren’t dancing,” he said. “May I remedy that?”
She turned toward him to find his hand outstretched and anticipation on his expression. She felt a wild desire to refuse him, to run from the room and the feelings that touching him would inspire. This man made her weak and she knew it, even if she tried to ignore it.
But she couldn’t do that, not without making a scene. She didn’t need those ramifications. Certainly Callum and Valaria didn’t either. So she swallowed down the rest of her punch, set her cup on a passing servant’s tray and put her fingers against his palm. He was warm. She felt that through both their sets of thin gloves. He made no outward reaction to when she touched him, so she schooled her reaction in order to appear just as unmoved.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said as he guided her to the floor and put his hand against her hip. They began to move together in a waltz and she cursed the universe that it would put her in this position where she had to look up into those dark brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to effortlessly see through everyone around him.
She cleared her throat. “Are you happy for Callum or lamenting his loss of freedom today?”
There was a moment when Bernadette thought she saw some version of regret cross Theo’s face, but then it was gone and he smirked a little. God, but he was handsome. He was tall and broad shouldered, with smoldering dark brown eyes and thick brown hair. He was always perfectly groomed and dressed, and he always had the attention of every available woman in any room…and some portion of the attached ones, too. Even now ladies watched from every corner, glaring at her for having his interest, even briefly.
“A year or two ago, I admit I might have lamented about his being leg shackled, but I appear to be growing as a person.”
She laughed at his playfully frustrated tone. As if growth were a bad thing. “God forbid,” she teased. “So you would not say his marriage is a negative now?”
They pivoted, and Theo looked off to where Valaria and Callum now stood together. Callum’s arm was around her waist, and while she spoke to someone, he was just…watching her, as if she were the most fascinating creature he’d ever encountered. And once again, Bernadette felt that pull of jealousy. What would it feel like to have someone look at her that way? To be so entirely focused on her and her happiness and her pleasure? She’d never experienced such a thing, certainly not with her own late husband.
Theo sighed. “He is besotted, and rightfully so. Valaria is not only beautiful, but she is a good match for him. No one could watch what they went through over the last year and not celebrate that they are finally free to be together.” He winked at her and the seriousness of his tone melted away. “But if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it.”
“Of course, it will be our secret,” she said, and forced a smile.
His brow wrinkled. “So we have established I am reluctantly happy for our friends,” he said slowly. “Are you…are you not?” When she drew in a sharp breath, he hastened to add, “I have never seen you be anything but joyful for Valaria and Flora in their matches. But there is something about your expression. A little glumness at such a happy occasion that doesn’t seemyou.”
Oh, how she hated how observant this man was. How much he could see through her without even trying, even though she meant nothing to him. He played at connection so easily that she couldn’t trust it when she saw it shimmering there like a mirage.
“I’m…I’m not glum,” she began, trying to meter her tone and knowing she failed when Theo’s expression grew sharp.
Now all his focus was on her. “Etta?” he pressed, turning her gently in the crowd of dancers.
She stared up into those eyes and swallowed hard. The music was coming to an end and she needed to make her escape. She stepped from his arms as soon as she could and executed a curtsey. “Thank you for the dance, Theo,” she said, and ducked away from him.
She heard him say her name as she left the dancefloor, but she kept going. She went straight through the crowd, as far from him as she could manage. Had it not been the dead of winter, she would have fled to the terrace, but all she could do now was hide as best she could.
Only he wouldn’t let her. He pushed through the others toward her, his dark gaze locked on her. He paused only to grab two cups of punch from the table and then he came to her. He held out one to her as he arched a brow.
“You can’t just run away in the middle of a conversation,” he said.
She shook her head. “If you were any kind of gentleman, you would have allowed my escape.”
“A gentleman,” he teased with a laugh. “Heaven forbid.” His tone gentled. “What is it? What is troubling you?”
She sighed. He wouldn’t let this go and as much as she knew she could keep it to herself, the words were right there on the tip of her tongue. Ready to wound if they were said to the wrong person. Perhaps it was better to say them to Theo and hope he would protect them.
“I’m happy for them,” she whispered, and then drew in an unsteady breath. “But when I look at them it makes me…it makes me..."
“What?”
“Realize how alone I-I am,” she stammered, each word heavy on her tongue.
“Ah,” he said, and she couldn’t help but notice how he angled himself away a fraction. The softness was gone. The connection loosened a little. It reminded her of another conversation they’d once shared, a lifetime ago. He’d turned away from her then, too. “Well, that is to be expected. You’ve been a widow for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Five years,” she said softly. “Almost twice as long as I was married in the first place.”
