Chapter 1 #2
Theodore stared at her as though the single exclamation ought to have sufficed.
Julia did not flinch at the volume of his voice.
She simply smoothed her skirts. Theodore looked at her.
He had known this woman his entire life.
He knew every expression in her considerable arsenal, and the one she was wearing now, that serene, entirely unbothered look, was the one she deployed when she had already decided how something was going to go and was simply waiting for everyone else to arrive at the same conclusion.
It was deeply irritating.
He drew a breath that seemed intended to steady both his temper and his dignity, though neither appeared entirely successful.
“You cannot possibly expect me to accept this absurd scheme of yours,” he said at last, resuming the pacing he had begun the moment they stepped into the corridor outside the ballroom.
“I cannot even bring myself to believe it. That you would go that far to create a list of women applying to become my wife. To be the Duchess of Carrowell.”
Julia let out a soft sigh. “Theodore, you are pacing like a caged beast, and for what? Because I have taken an interest in your future? Someone must, given that you seem content to spend your years as a permanent fixture of the gaming halls and the gossip columns.”
“My future is my own to manage,” he answered.
Julia sighed again, but this time it was a soft sound tinged with more disappointment than apology. “Theodore, look at yourself,” she said. “You are six feet of stubbornness and fine tailoring. You have been blessed with a face that belongs on a coin and a title that opens every door in the Ton.”
“Your hair...” she continued. “...is that particular shade of dark gold that painters spend their entire careers trying to capture and never quite manage. Your eyes are the color of a winter sea, and women write poetry about eyes like that, Theo. Bad poetry, mostly, but the sentiment is there.”
Theodore leaned against the stone railing and looked at her. “Are you quite finished?”
“I am not even close to finished.” She took a step toward him. “I am so incredibly proud of you, Theo.”
Theodore squinted his eyes suspiciously. “If you think flattery would get you —”
“You are nine and twenty years old,” she continued anyway. You are solvent, which puts you ahead of at least a third of the peerage already. You walk into a room, and every head turns. Every single one.” She paused. “You are strong, you are healthy, but you are entirely alone.”
“I am not alone,” he muttered. “I have more friends than I have hours in the day.”
“Do these friends love you the way a lady would love her husband?”
Theodore scoffed. “Aunt Julia, you and I both know getting the women of the Ton to pay attention to me is not that hard a task.”
“All you do is flirt!” she countered. “That is entirely different, and you know it.”
“I find flirting very fulfilling.”
“Flirting,” Julia said crisply. “Does not keep you warm at night.”
“Aunt Julia —”
“It does not sit across from you at breakfast. It does not... It does not give you a family, Your Grace.” She inhaled sharply, gathering herself.
“You have companions. But you have no home. Not really. I promised your mother that I would see you settled, that I would make sure there was someone to hold the other end of your life. Right now, you are the most eligible man in all of London.”
Theodore let out a short, dry laugh, his gaze finally meeting hers. “So, this list is your way of fulfilling a deathbed promise? That is all it is?”
“That is not all, it is,” she said quietly. Julia reached out and straightened his collar. “You gave me your word, Theo,” she continued. “Do you recall? You promised me that you would at least try to find a wife. That you would find someone who fits you.”
Theodore stiffened under her touch, but he didn't pull away. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere over her shoulder.
“I understand that, but a list is completely absurd, Aunt Julia,” he said to her in a hushed tone.
“Instead, you spend every evening in a perpetual state of motion,” she continued, ignoring his remark.
“You dance. You flirt. You lead every eligible woman in the room to believe they have caught your interest, and then you vanish into the night without a single word of courtship. You are a man who behaves like a ghost, haunting his own life. Enough of this performance, Theo.”
Theodore looked out at the garden. A muscle worked in his jaw. He did not offer a defense because there was no defense to offer, and they both knew it.
Julia’s posture softened after a few seconds. She reached out, her hand resting gently on his forearm. “Do this for me. All right? Do it for me. I am an old woman, and my only wish is to see you settled with someone who truly deserves you before I am no longer here to see it.”
“Aunt Julia, you and I both know you’re not going anywhere anytime soon,” he said and walked past her to resume his pacing. “I do not appreciate you speaking like this.”
Theodore felt the familiar, uncomfortable tightening in his chest. He could handle her lectures, he could bicker with her for hours and trade barbs until the sun rose.
But Julia knew exactly how to get through to him.
Every single time. He looked down at her hand, then back to her face, realizing once again that he was utterly incapable of saying no to her.
It was a singular weakness, one he guarded as closely as his freedom.
He let out a long, defeated sigh, his shoulders finally losing their defensive tension. “You are a very dangerous woman, Lady Birks,” he murmured and shook his head. “You use your words like a weapon of war.”
“I only want what is best for my Godson,” she said and shrugged. “I won’t rest until I see you happy.”
“Fine,” he said after a short pause. “I will play along. You can continue with your list and your selection.”
A triumphant light sparked in Julia’s eyes, but he held up a finger to stop her before she could speak.
“However,” he added, his dark blue eyes narrowing with a flash of his usual steel.
“Let us be clear on one point. I am the one who will be living with the woman, not you. So I will have the final say. I do not want you to pick one woman for me. I want a list too. But if I find someone worthy before you present your final list to me, then you cannot contest my choice. It is my happiness after all. Is that understood?”
Julia offered him a serene, enigmatic smile, the kind that suggested she had already won the war and was simply letting him win the skirmish.
“Perfectly understood, Your Grace. Shall we return to the ballroom together? I could show you some of the top contenders,” Julia asked, her voice light with a newfound cheer. “I believe the orchestra is beginning a new set, and the room would be quite eager for your reappearance.”
Theodore adjusted his cuffs. “Go on without me. I need a moment of air to reconcile myself to my new status as a hunted man. I will be in shortly. I believe I still owe Lady Beatrice a dance.”
Julia nodded, offering him a satisfied pat on the arm before she turned and disappeared back into the ballroom. Theodore watched her go, his eyes following the sweep of her skirts until she was lost in the crowd.
The silence of the terrace settled over him. He stepped toward the stone balustrade, leaning his weight into his hands and staring out into the dark, manicured gardens. The cool night air hit his face, but it did very little to soothe the irritation simmering beneath his skin.
He was frustrated by it. Frustrated by the way Julia always outmaneuvered him. She had used the one weapon she had always used, the one he had no defense against, his own love for her, and she had won. Again.
He supposed he ought to be used to it by now. She knew exactly which strings to pull, and she used that affection he had for her as his godmother to always reel him in.
But as he watched the shadows move in the garden, a slow, dangerous smile began to form on his lips.
If Julia wanted him to choose from her precious registry, he would do exactly that. He would play her game, but he would rewrite the rules. She wanted him settled with a woman of substance, a paragon of virtue who would manage him.
Fine.
He would find the most disastrous candidate on her list. He would seek out a woman so unsuitable, so utterly scandalous or dreadfully dull, that Julia would be forced to watch her master plan crumble.
He would choose a woman so appalling that Julia herself would eventually come to him on bended knee, begging him to break off the engagement and return to his life of bachelorhood.
Theodore straightened his waistcoat and smoothed his hair. The anxiety — merely thinking about the idea of marriage — that had gripped him earlier was gone.
“You want a wedding, Aunt Julia?” he whispered to the empty air. “I shall give you a spectacle you will never forget.”