Ethan froze as all the pieces snapped into place.
Of course.
Thea was at the bottom of this madness. This washerfault. The music, the guests, the games, and those two fiendish boys—she was responsible for it all. It made such perfect sense he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t realized it at once. Who else but Thea would dare to take over his house as if she were mistress of it?
She’d brought Cleves Court back from the dead. Instead of the cold, empty house he’d expected, the old place was warm and alive again,and as long as it was alive, he couldn’t bury it.
He’d come here to shove Cleves Court as deep into the ground as it would go, to cover it with dirt and bury it forever, and his memories right along with it. It should have been a simple enough thing to do, but now …
Nowshewas here, and nothing was simple anymore.
Thea was a complication waiting to happen—chaos in silk skirts, with a tempting smile and devastating green eyes. No sooner would he have everything in its proper place than she’d sweep in like a hurricane and send it all into disarray with a snap of her pretty fingers.
Simple things had a way of becoming complicated around Thea.
An adolescent flirtation, a single kiss… They were simple things, and yet somehow, without him knowing when or how it happened, Thea had become the woman against which every other woman was measured.
All at once, Ethan was furious.
He didn’t stop to think. If he had, perhaps he wouldn’t have done it, but he’d drunk an entire flask of whiskey, and his heart was pounding, and the blue flames were dancing in front of his eyes, and damn it, the geese and the French hens made no sense at all, and what was he supposed to do with eight bloody milkmaids?
Before he’d even made up his mind to move, he was standing in the middle of the drawing-room, bellowing and frothing like an inmate at Bedlam. “What thedevildo you think you’re doing with my house, Theadosia Sheridan?”
There was a moment of shocked silence, and then everything happened at once.
Henry and George were in the midst of snatching raisins from the bowl and licking their fingers, but the minute Ethan’s voice rang across the drawing-room, they came to a dead stop.
“He cursed!” Henry nudged his brother. “He said a curse, right ’ere in the drawing-room!”
“He did.” George looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or offended by such a thing. “And ’e did it loud, too.”
“Look at ’im, George. A right swell, in’t he? He’s a lordship, ye know.”
“Don’t care if ’e’s a swell, or even a lordship. He shouted at Miss Sheridan.” George took a step toward Ethan, his hands balled into fists. “No one’s s’posed to shout at Miss Sheridan.”
“That swell right there did!” Henry pointed at Ethan, appealing to the rest of the party, all of whom were standing around watching the scene unfold, still mute with shock. “That’s not right, it’s not, but then ’e’s a lordship, and in his cups. That’s what lordships do when they’re in their cups.”
Ethan ignored them, his gaze never leaving Thea’s face. “I asked you a question, Miss Sheridan, and I’ll have an answer at once.”
“Ethan? My goodness, is that you?” One shaking hand came up to cover her mouth, but when she lowered it again her lips were curved in the same smile that still haunted him, the one that made his heart leap in his chest. The smile that said she couldn’t imagine it being anyone but him, as if he were the only person in the world she wanted to see.
But he didn’t deserve that smile. Not anymore.
“Ethan, what are you doing here? I can’t believe it’s—”
“Not Ethan, Miss Sheridan. I’m Lord Devon now, and I’m here because this ismyhouse. Or perhaps you’ve forgotten that?”
She stared at him in silence for a moment, then, “No. I haven’t forgotten … your lordship.” She paused before she added his title— not for long enough to be accused of outright insolence, but just shy of it.
“I’m pleased to hear it. Given you do recall I’m the master of the house, perhaps you’d favor me with an answer to my question. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Having a Christmas Eve party, my lord.” Her voice was calm, but Ethan didn’t miss the flicker of temper in her eyes.
“Did you get my permission to have a party at my house, Miss Sheridan?”
“No.”
Ethan’s temper rose at this blithe dismissal. She didn’t sound the least bit repentant, damn her. “Well, why not? I believe it’s customary for servants to ask the earl’s permission for such things.”
