And she realized that she meant it. She feared not violence. Not harm.
She feared marrying a man whose mind she could never enter. A man whose silence might always keep her at arm’s length. A man she might love without ever being truly seen or loved in return.
This was the puzzle she had to solve.
Twenty
Michael Linwood.
Theo had been staring at the name for nearly an hour.
It sat at the top of the page like an accusation. A name Theo had heard before—faintly, distantly—but one he could find nothing solid about. No holdings. No mention in the current peerage. No record of attendance at Parliament or even the clubs that men of his standing frequented.
And yet it had come from the lips of a man Theo had spent days tracking, a man who had broken beneath his questions and spit out the name like a curse.
Now, it sat there, mocking him.
Theo leaned back in his chair, his teeth clenched and eyes on the name inked in his own hand. Anything to keep himself from thinking about her.
He had tried to busy himself. Letters, books, business. None of it worked. He’d even reviewed the ledgers from Gloucestershire—anything to keep from picturing the look in her eyes as she backed away from him.
She had seen him in his worst hour, and she had walked away.
Good.
It was better this way. Safer and cleaner.
Then why did every breath feel like a war inside his chest? He pulled the handkerchief from his coat pocket and stared at it. The messy stitching of his initials ran diagonally across one corner, surrounded by whimsical designs—flowers, a crooked crown, a star that might have been a sun. It was uneven and absurd.
And yet he carried it with him everywhere.
The door opened, but he did not look up. “I thought you would be below stairs sparring with your old friend.”
“That dummy is not my friend,” Theo replied.
August chuckled. “I suppose you will not spar with your friend as dangerously as you do with the dummy.”
“Would you like to prove that?” Theo looked up now, noticing how worn his friend looked.
“I do like to keep you on edge,” August replied with a grin. “But I shall not fence against you.” August leaned against the doorframe as though he had always belonged there. Which, in truth, he had.
Theo rose and went to the sideboard, pouring two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to August without comment.
August took it then held out a folded letter as he crossed to sit in front of the large oak desk. “From April.”
Theo’s eyes snapped to the note, his pulse tightening before he could steel himself. A letter. So, she had written after all. For a moment, he didn’t reach for it. Curiosity warred with a heavier emotion that sat like a stone behind his ribs.
Surrendering, he took it from August’s hand, unfolded the parchment, and began to read.
Your Grace,
In light of the circumstances, I accept your proposal. As discussed, ours shall be a marriage of convenience. We will maintain the necessary appearances and fulfill our duties accordingly.
Lady April Vestiere
He read it once. Then again. Her voice echoed in his mind but stripped of every warmth he’d heard in it before.
“She sounds like she’s drafting a treaty,” he muttered.
