Chapter 11
Richard sat hunched over his desk, frowning down at the rows of figures that stubbornly refused to make sense.
Numbers had always eluded him. As a boy, he’d muddled through his lessons with the help of patient tutors and his father’s gentle encouragement, but even now, with years of experience behind him, columns still blurred and balances never quite added up as they should.
He had long since learned to rely on his man of business to handle the more intricate aspects of estate management, but pride insisted he at least make the attempt before surrendering the ledger.
The door creaked open and his mother’s voice broke the silence. “Do you intend to remain in here all morning, or will you join us for breakfast?”
Glancing up at the long clock in the corner, Richard blinked in surprise. “Is it that time already?”
“It is,” she said with the faintest smile, her eyes sweeping the cluttered desk.
With a rolling of his shoulders, he rose. “I suppose I could use a reprieve.”
“Good.” She turned as if to leave, then paused at the threshold. “Before you sit down, go fetch Miss Theodosia from the gardens. She’s been out there drawing for hours, and I daresay she will miss breakfast.”
He sighed inwardly. “Is that truly necessary?”
“I believe you promised to be more civil.”
That was true enough. “Very well,” he said with little enthusiasm.
Her expression softened. “I’ve noticed a change in your manner towards Miss Theodosia. You’ve been less… brusque.”
With a dismissive shrug, he replied, “It’s self-preservation. If I drive her away, Olivia will never forgive me, and I, quite frankly, would never forgive myself.”
“Regardless of the motive, I am pleased,” she said. “I find her to be rather delightful.”
His jaw tightened. “Do not let her deceive you, Mother. She may charm you as she tried to do to me, but she is not what she pretends to be.”
“We’ve discussed it—Olivia and I—and neither of us believes it’s a pretense.”
“That is rarely a good sign,” he muttered.
She ignored him and continued. “She seems sincere.”
“You are both too tender-hearted,” he replied, though without much conviction.
His mother fixed him with a thoughtful gaze. “I do not know why you are so jagged about her, Richard, but be careful. You may be wrong.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he said firmly. “You must trust me.”
“I do,” she said, “but part of me hopes you are wrong. If Miss Theodosia is innocent, then she’ll be exonerated. And you won’t have to challenge Mr. Smith to a duel.”
He stiffened. “I am doing this for Olivia. For her future.”
Her eyes searched his face, as if weighing how much of that was truth and how much was something else.
Finally, she spoke. “And how, precisely, is this helping Olivia’s future?
” she asked. “We are already contending with the disgrace of her elopement and Mr. Smith’s heartless abandonment.
The whispers in Society have not yet faded.
What do you suppose will happen if you hunt the man down and challenge him to a duel?
If you kill him, we will not merely be dealing with whispers.
We will be drowning beneath a fresh tide of scandal. ”
He drew a breath. “We cannot let Mr. Smith win.” The words came out harsher than he had intended.
His mother’s expression was a mixture of exasperation and desperation.
“And what, pray tell, will happen if you are killed?” Her voice broke slightly on the last word, though she quickly mastered herself.
“Have you considered that, Richard? If you fall, the marquessate will pass to some distant cousin who knows nothing of our affairs, nor cares for Olivia or me. We would be left to fend for ourselves, ruined both socially and financially. Is that the future you envision for your sister? For me?”
His chest rose and fell in a deep, uneven breath.
“No,” he admitted, voice roughened by emotion.
“Of course not. But what choice do I have? It is the only way I see to resolve this—” He broke off, his fists curling at his sides.
“Mr. Smith married Olivia under false pretenses and cast her aside like rubbish. I cannot—will not—stand by and do nothing. I must set this right. For her sake… and for mine. It is my duty.”
For a long moment, his mother said nothing. Then she merely nodded and left him with a parting, “I’ll see you in the dining room.”
Closing the ledger, Richard made his way through the townhouse and out the rear door, which a footman opened with a bow. The crisp morning air was laced with the scent of roses.
Ahead, beneath the shade of a sycamore, he saw Miss Theodosia, seated on a blanket with her sketchbook resting on her lap. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her hand moving swiftly across the page.
He didn’t wish to startle her, so he called out softly, “Good morning.”
She turned, and to his pleasant surprise, she did not scowl at him. “Good morning, my lord.”
“I’ve been sent to retrieve you for breakfast.” He gestured towards her book. “May I see what has so captured your attention?”
A faint flush crept into her cheeks as she closed the book protectively. “I would rather not.”
“Now I am intrigued. What secrets are you hiding in those pages?”
“Nothing that would interest you.”
He stepped closer, watching her curiously. “So you say.”
Rising to her feet, she tucked the sketchbook firmly against her chest. “It’s not ready to be seen.”
He inclined his head, not wanting to press her. “Very well. My mother insisted I fetch you, so here I am, performing my duty.”
“That was thoughtful of her.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “What about me? Am I to receive no credit for braving the outdoors on your behalf?”
“Your contribution is marginal, my lord,” she replied.
He offered his arm. “May I escort you in?”
Taking a step back, she said, “I can walk just fine, thank you.”
“I’ve no doubt. Still, I am endeavoring to be a gentleman.”
Her gaze dropped to his arm. “I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to accept your offer.”
“Spoken like a true optimist,” he said with a quiet chuckle.
She rested her fingers lightly on his sleeve, and together they strolled towards the house. After a pause, he asked, “How did you sleep?”
“Well, thank you. And you?”
He kept his gaze ahead. “Surprisingly well.”
“Good. Now, since that topic is out of the way, shall we discuss the state of the gardens?” she asked lightly.
He gave a mock shudder. “I would rather not.”
“Then what subject would you prefer?”
He glanced sideways at her. “Are you enjoying London?”
She perked up, and her eyes brightened. “Oh, yes. Everything is so vibrant and full of life.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“What do you enjoy most in Town?”
He considered before replying. “Vauxhall Gardens. The grounds are magnificent, especially during the fireworks displays.”
A wistful look crossed her face. “My mother would have loved to see that. I do not believe she ever saw fireworks.”
“Were you close with her?”
“I was. But she died when I was still quite young.”
“I’m sorry.”
She gave a small, appreciative nod. “My parents married for love, despite their families’ objections. It caused quite the scandal in their day.”
He held the door open for her. “Love matches are rare.”
“They are, but I wish they weren’t.”
“In our circles, marriages are more about security than sentiment.”
Miss Theodosia furrowed her brows. “Do you not aspire for love, my lord?”
“Heavens, no. My parents had a marriage of convenience and eventually found affection. I hope for the same.”
“And if affection never grows?”
He shrugged. “Then mutual respect must suffice.”
She stopped in the entry hall and turned towards him. “That’s a rather bleak outlook.”
“No, it’s a pragmatic one,” he replied. “My duty is to marry well and produce heirs to carry on my legacy.”
She tilted her head. “Out of curiosity, what do you consider a suitable match?”
“A well-bred lady with a generous dowry,” he answered honestly.
“How romantic,” she muttered.
Richard heard the sarcasm in her voice, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he asked, “And what of you? Do you dream of marrying for love? Perhaps even marrying a wealthy lord?”
“No, I don’t care for titles or wealth. I merely want a husband who is kind and present—someone who would raise a family with me in the countryside.”
He studied her. “Why are you not married, then? I am sure there are men lining up to marry you.”
She laughed. “That is kind of you to say, but I’m considered an oddity in my village. I manage an estate, and most men find that… unsettling. Intimidating.”
“Why not let your husband take it over?”
The humor on her face faded. “Because I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”
He lifted his hands. “I meant no offense.”
“Forgive me,” she said with a wry smile. “I can be defensive where my father’s estate is concerned.”
He stepped closer. “It’s your estate now, is it not?”
“Technically, yes, considering my sister has all but abandoned it… and me,” she admitted.
“Then I commend you. Not many women could manage such responsibility.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you complimenting me?”
“Yes. At least I’m trying to.”
A slow smile curved her lips. “I’m not used to this truce between us. I keep expecting an insult.”
“There won’t be one. Not today.”
She eyed him curiously. “Did your mother put you up to this?”
He let out a slight chuckle. “She may have hinted at it, but I’m speaking of my own accord.”
Before she could respond, Olivia’s voice rang out from the staircase. “Why do you two insist on waking before the fashionable hour?”
“You could have requested a breakfast tray in your room,” Richard said, turning to his sister.
“And miss your lively sparring matches? Never.” Olivia descended with a grin. “It’s better than any French romance I’ve read lately.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint, but Miss Theodosia and I haven’t argued once this morning.”
“There’s still time,” Olivia said as she swept past them.