“Just...do no question or argue with me for once and follow me.”
He did not offer his hand or wait for her. He simply walked towards the door. Theodora’s footsteps were quiet behind him as he led her out of the sitting room and into the dim corridor. The moment they were outside, he stopped and turned to face her.
Theodora’s expression reflected his simmering frustration.
“Miss Dowell,” he said strictly, “what the hell were you thinking in there?”
She flinched, and then as if she remembered herself, she straightened her spine, lifting her chin in that mulish, infuriating way of hers.
“Your Grace,” she said tightly, “you asked me to help your sister without any explanation at all, so I took the opportunity to find out what is wrong with her and why she requires any help in the first place.”
Alexander’s jaw clenched. “Perhaps you should have waited until I explained myself.”
“And when would that have been? Before or after kissing me?” Theodora crossed her arms at her waist, causing her ample bosoms along with her words to rise and distract him even further.
“Rosalind simply needs a friend, that is all.” He did not want to admit that he was wrong, and that he should have explained to her why he needed her help instead of kissing her.
“Everyone needs a friend,” Theodora agreed. “But… this is not what you requested of me. And your sister is clearly suffering. Her posture, her breathing, her?—”
“Stop!” His voice cracked like a whip in the silent corridor.
Theodora froze.
Alexander dragged a hand through his hair, pacing a short line before facing her again. “You saw how she reacted to being questioned in such a manner. She was frightened and overwhelmed. Rosalind does not need to be prodded with questions like some—some specimen on a table by you or anyone else for that matter.”
Theodora’s eyes flashed. “I was not treating her as a specimen; I was simply trying to find out the root of her obvious melancholy.”
“You were treating her like a patient,” he spat. The words tasted bitter. “You were observing and analyzing her like you do with your men.”
She flinched at his choice of words.
“You do not even know me that well to assume how I perceive people,” she scoffed.
“I know when you are dissecting someone with your eyes. I see it when you look at me,” he shot back.
Her breath trembled, and she stepped away from him. Alexander instantly regretted his words.
“I was truly only trying to help.”
“You were trying to diagnose,” he countered. “There is a difference.”
Theodora’s hands curled at her sides. “And what have you been doing, Your Grace? Ignoring her suffering? Pretending she ismerelyshy and hoping that she will magically recover if you avoid the truth long enough?”
He stiffened as his own anger rose but there was something admirable in the way she spoke that made him wonder what she had been through to bring about such compassion for others.
“Theodora, do not presume?—”
“You will address me as Miss Dowell. And I presume nothing,” she cut in, her voice trembling with emotion she clearly did not want to show. “You can question my integrity but do not question my intelligence.”
Alexander felt the words like a blow to the ribs.
He stalked closer, towering over her. “Intelligent or not, you know nothing of what I have done for my sister.”
“Then tell me,” she challenged, her eyes fierce even under Alexander’s glare. “Tell me how you have been dealing with her?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it as all the memories of his parents flooded his mind. He would always blame himself for his sister’s melancholy.
I should have been there for her, every second and every day.
