Chapter 3
The sun had barely lifted above the horizon as Richard urged his horse along the winding road that led to Miss Theodosia’s estate. The morning air was brisk, heavy with dew and the scent of damp earth, but he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed ahead, narrowed in contemplation.
As he crested the hill overlooking her land, the full breadth of the property stretched out before him. The fields were neatly cultivated, the fences recently mended, and the manor sat stately at the end of a tree-lined drive. Everything was orderly, efficient, thriving.
A flicker of reluctant admiration stirred within him.
She’s done well, he admitted silently. Not many women, particularly one so young, could have taken on the burden of running an estate. She had shown resilience, competence… and cunning.
But Richard wasn’t here to admire Miss Theodosia. She was, in his mind, a liar—a clever one, yes, and capable of disarming charm—but still, a deceiver. She was hiding something, and he meant to uncover the truth.
If all went according to plan, she would accompany him to London, and Mr. Smith—whoever he truly was—would be drawn out. Then, and only then, could justice be served. He’d see them both exposed for the pain they had caused. Let the law deal with them after that.
As he drew nearer to the manor, he caught sight of Miss Theodosia seated on a stone bench tucked beneath an ancient elm in the gardens.
A sketchbook was open in her lap, and she was wholly absorbed in the scene before her.
Her pencil moved in measured strokes as she glanced up at a small bird perched on a low branch.
For a brief, jarring moment, she looked… peaceful. Almost lovely.
He reined in his horse, and the bird startled at the sound, taking flight with a sharp flutter of wings.
Miss Theodosia’s head turned at once, and the serenity in her expression vanished. Her brows drew together in irritation. “Oh, wonderful. You’ve returned, my lord.”
He ignored the bite in her tone as he dismounted. “I see you’re an early riser.”
“That I am,” she replied. “Mornings are the only time of day when peace is assured and uninvited visitors are rare.”
Unbothered, he secured his horse to the nearby hitching post and walked towards her. “Were you sketching that bird?”
“I was trying to,” she replied, lifting the book slightly in demonstration. “Though it’s difficult to capture a creature that won’t sit still for more than a moment.”
He stepped closer and glanced at the page. To his surprise, the sketch was striking—graceful lines, careful shading, and a precise rendering of the bird’s posture and movement. “That’s impressive,” he admitted, almost grudgingly.
A faint smile curved her lips. “I enjoy drawing. My mother was quite gifted at it, and she encouraged me from an early age.”
He caught the subtle shift in her voice, the hint of grief hidden beneath composed words. It struck something in him, but he pushed it aside. She’s playing a part. That’s all.
He gestured towards the bench. “May I?”
She gave a slight incline of her head and shifted towards one end of the bench, allowing him space. There was a stiffness in her posture, a silent reminder that this was no friendly visit.
He sat, leaving a proper distance between them. “Have you given any further thought to my offer?”
“I have,” she said evenly, folding her hands in her lap. “Though I remain puzzled. Why me, my lord? There must be dozens of young ladies more suited to the task.”
“I explained my reasoning yesterday.”
“You did,” she allowed, “but it all still feels rather… surreal. Has your sister even expressed a desire for a companion?”
Richard hesitated. Truthfully, Olivia would balk at the very idea, particularly if it involved deception. But she would come around once he explained the necessity.
He summoned a practiced smile. “That needn’t concern you.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why do you insist on dismissing my concerns, as though my thoughts are mere trifles?”
“I wasn’t—” he began, but she cut him off.
“It certainly feels that way. What happens if I travel to London and your sister refuses to take me on as her companion?”
“Then I’ll see you safely home again,” he said, a touch too quickly.
She studied him, her gaze sharp. “How old is your sister?”
“Five and twenty.”
“And she’s married?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “She is. Or rather—was. Her husband abandoned her not long ago.”
Miss Theodosia drew in a sharp breath. “How awful. Your poor sister. To be so betrayed…”
Her reaction was sincere. He could see it in the way her eyes softened and her hand pressed lightly to her chest. It made him sick. She was the reason Olivia’s life had unraveled. She must know something. But her sympathy sounded genuine. She was a good actress.
“She’s… surviving,” he said. “My mother, however, is not faring as well. The scandal has made her beside herself.”
“And what became of your sister’s husband?” Miss Theodosia asked.
Richard bristled at the question. Was she merely testing him, attempting to uncover some hidden guilt—or perhaps to see how much responsibility he would claim? He could not tell.
“I do not rightly know,” he replied, voice clipped with restrained frustration. “Which is why I am doing everything in my power to find him—for my sister’s sake.”
“And for yours,” she added simply.
He looked away, unable to meet her eyes. How easily she struck at the heart of it. He did need to find Mr. Smith for Olivia, of course. But also for himself. It was his duty to fix this. It was the only way he would be able to live with himself.
“Will you tell me about your family?” she asked.
He did not like talking about himself, but he knew that he must for the sake of this ruse. “My father died some years ago. I’ve been the head of the family since. It hasn’t been easy. Especially lately.”
“I understand more than you might think,” she said. She set the sketchbook down between them. “When my father died, the estate was in terrible condition. My sister left shortly after, and I was left to manage everything alone.”
“And now?” he asked.
“I’ve restored the estate. It’s rather profitable now. I know it’s uncommon for a woman to take on such responsibilities, but I’ve always had a head for numbers. I see patterns others miss.”
“That’s admirable,” he said, before he could stop himself.
She met his gaze, unflinching. “Your sister may surprise you as well. People often do when they have no choice but to rise to the challenges before them.”
Her words echoed in his mind. A warning—or a promise?
He wasn’t sure.
Richard stretched his legs out before him as he leaned back slightly. “My sister is the daughter of a marquess. Her days are spent in the drawing room, quietly embroidering handkerchiefs and waiting for callers who never arrive on time.”
“How perfectly dull,” Theodosia muttered under her breath, not even bothering to conceal her disdain.
“It is what’s expected of her,” he said with a shrug, as if that settled the matter.
A crease formed between her brows. “Expected, perhaps. But is it what she wants?”
“Does it matter? It’s her duty.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you believe duty should always come before desire?”
The question struck a nerve. Richard stiffened, his shoulders tensing beneath his coat. “You forget yourself. You are being far too familiar.”
“True,” she replied without the slightest hint of apology. “But I’m not in the habit of holding my tongue, particularly when a conversation becomes interesting.”
“Then perhaps you ought to reconsider that habit,” he snapped. “Your standing in Society hardly grants you the freedom to speak so freely.”
That did it.
With an indignant huff, Miss Theodosia rose from the bench, causing him to rise as well. “I daresay I’ve reached my threshold for stupid remarks today, my lord,” she declared.
“Miss Theodosia—”
She held up a hand to silence him. “You’re asking me to leave my home, my work, my freedom, and enter a world where I must constantly bite my tongue and pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“I never said that,” he countered, irritation threading through his tone.
Lowering her hand, she stared at him. “You didn’t need to. To think I nearly agreed to go with you. What a terrible mistake that would have been.”
Richard clenched his jaw. This woman. She was the most maddening creature he’d ever met—and yet, somehow, she was exactly the person he needed. He had no desire to force her hand. But he would have her in London, one way or another.
He took a breath and did something that did not come easily to him.
He swallowed his pride.
“You’re making a mistake,” he stated, as she turned to leave.
She paused. “Am I?”
“Yes.” He took a slow step towards her. “You asked why I chose you. It’s because my sister needs a friend. Someone with strength. Wit. A sharp tongue. Someone unafraid to speak her mind. You may think I find your honesty intolerable, but the truth is, it’s precisely why I believe you would suit.”
She blinked, clearly surprised by the admission, but before she could speak, he continued. “And if I’m wrong—if you meet my sister and decide it isn’t a fit—I will pay you two thousand pounds for your time.”
“Two thousand pounds?” she repeated.
He nodded. “A fair sum, I think. Come to London. Spend a fortnight in my sister’s company. If, at the end of that time, you believe the arrangement would never work, I will see you returned home safely with the money.”
“And if I stay on as her companion?”
“Then you will receive the money after one full month of employment.”
Theodosia bit her lower lip, clearly weighing the offer. “That’s… generous. It would allow me to buy new farm equipment and fill the coffers.”
“I hope it’s generous enough to earn your agreement,” he said, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice.
She studied him for a long moment. “And will I be expected to bite my tongue in your presence?”