Chapter 13 #2
Olivia, of course, noticed everything. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she looked between them. “Well,” she drawled, “it’s a bit late in the evening for private consultations about account ledgers.”
Richard cleared his throat, his expression now stern. “That’s quite enough, Olivia.”
But his sister only grinned wider, unrepentant as ever. “Of course. I shall let you two resume nothing, then.” She turned with a swish of her skirts and disappeared down the corridor, humming as she went.
Silence fell again, heavy with all that had nearly been said—and all that had nearly happened.
Richard looked back at Miss Theodosia. Her hands slowly dropped from her face, though the pink still lingered on her cheeks. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them could summon a single word.
“It is late,” Miss Theodosia said, her voice a touch unsteady. “I should retire for the night.”
Richard gave a small nod, though he couldn’t seem to look away from her. “Yes,” he agreed. “I believe that would be wise.”
She lingered a moment longer, as if considering whether to say more, then offered him a weak smile. But it didn’t quite reach her eyes—not this time. With a graceful dip of her head, she turned and made her way to the door, her footsteps hushed against the carpet.
She didn’t glance back. Not once.
As soon as the door clicked softly shut behind her, Richard exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and sank heavily into the nearest chair.
He stared at the now-closed door, his mind racing, his chest still tight with the echo of what might have been.
What in the blazes had just happened?
One moment they were speaking of ledgers, and the next, he had been drawn to her. Compelled. And she had not pulled away. Not until Olivia’s untimely arrival shattered the spell like glass.
And that was the question that haunted him now, the one that refused to be silenced: what would have happened if his sister hadn’t walked in when she did?
Would he have touched her cheek? Leaned in to kiss her? Would Theodosia have let him?
He scowled at the very thought. It was madness. She was here to lure Mr. Smith out of hiding. Nothing more.
His gaze drifted back to the fire, now burning low. One thing was certain: whatever that moment between them had been, it could not happen again. He would make certain of it. He must.
Even if a part of him—an insistent, unruly part—very much wanted it to.
Theodosia sat near the window as she gazed out over the gardens below. The early morning sun hovered just above the horizon, casting a soft golden light across the dew-laced hedges and waking blossoms. The air was still, hushed, and it suited her unsettled thoughts.
She had slept more soundly than she had in weeks, her rest untroubled but for the one persistent thread of memory that tugged at her consciousness the moment she opened her eyes: Lord Wilton.
What had nearly happened between them last night?
Whatever it was must not happen again. She was Olivia’s companion, a position of trust and propriety, and she had no business entertaining any sort of entanglement with her employer’s brother. Certainly not with a man as infuriating, arrogant, and utterly exasperating as the Marquess of Wilton.
And yet…
She had seen something in him the night before.
A glimpse of the man beneath the title. His usual shields—his pride, his aloofness—had slipped for just a moment, revealing someone unexpectedly vulnerable.
A man who, despite his wealth and status, seemed to hunger for acceptance—not for what he represented, but for who he was.
It had stirred something in her. Something foolish and inconvenient.
Drat.
She’d done it. She’d gone and developed the tiniest, most inconvenient affection for a man she had no intention of ever loving.
Theodosia huffed softly and turned her face from the sun. She was being utterly ridiculous.
A firm knock at the door broke through her thoughts.
“Enter,” she called, her voice composed.
Mary stepped inside with her usual brisk cheer. “Good, you’re awake. Shall we ready you for the day, Miss?”
With a nod, Theodosia rose and moved to the dressing table. As Mary began brushing and pinning up her hair, she allowed her mind to drift again—though now she kept her thoughts carefully guarded, even from herself.
Once she was dressed in a soft morning gown of lavender muslin, she made her way down the staircase and towards the dining room.
With every step, her heart seemed to knock a little harder against her ribs.
She had no desire to see Lord Wilton this morning.
Or… perhaps she had too much desire, which was the greater danger.
She stepped into the dining room and found him precisely as she had expected—seated at the head of the table, newssheets in hand, his expression as unreadable as always.
Theodosia hesitated for only a moment before squaring her shoulders and crossing the room with practiced composure.
Lord Wilton immediately started to rise at her entrance.
“There’s no need to stand, my lord,” she said quickly, lifting a hand to forestall him.
He inclined his head and resumed his seat, offering her a folded section of the newssheets. “It seems your juggling display yesterday has garnered you a mention. Mr. Fairchild has written a short article about it.”
She blinked in surprise as she accepted the page, her eyes scanning the neat columns of print. “I’ve never appeared in the Society pages before.”
“It’s rather less exciting than one imagines,” he said dryly.
Theodosia laughed under her breath and set the newssheets down. “I can only imagine Penelope’s reaction when she reads this in a few days. The newssheets always arrive late in the village, but we devour them the moment they come—every article, every ridiculous rumor.”
Lord Wilton leaned back slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes. “And what will Penelope say when she learns you’ve been publicly juggling in front of Gunter’s?”
“She won’t be surprised in the least,” Theodosia replied with a shrug. “She’s seen me juggle many times.”
“Well, I found it rather impressive,” he admitted. “I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered another young woman who could juggle with such confidence.”
“I also possess the rare talent of skipping stones across a lake with near-perfect accuracy,” she added with mock pride.
He chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that made her stomach flip in the most inconvenient way. “A woman of many talents, indeed.”
Theodosia smiled and looked down at her plate, hiding the blush that was threatening to warm her cheeks.
This version of Lord Wilton—this easier, smiling man—was far too dangerous.
He made her feel at ease. He made her laugh.
He made her wonder if perhaps… just perhaps…
there was something real beneath all the propriety and posture.
And that, above all, was what worried her most.
Lady Wilton swept in and seated herself at the far end of the table. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly.
“Good morning, my lady,” Theodosia returned with a polite smile.
A footman appeared and set a cup of chocolate before her. Theodosia reached for the cup and took a sip.
Lady Wilton turned her attention towards her son. “I was thinking—”
“A dangerous pastime,” Lord Wilton interjected, his eyes still fixed upon the newssheets.
Lady Wilton ignored the jibe and continued. “As I was saying, I believe it would be rather pleasant for Miss Theodosia to enjoy a carriage ride through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour.”
Lord Wilton didn’t even glance up. “That is a grand idea,” he agreed.
“Wonderful,” Lady Wilton replied at once, her tone brightening. “Then you will take her.”
That made him look up. He lowered the newssheets with deliberate slowness. “I beg your pardon?”
She gestured towards Theodosia with a mild wave of her hand. “You cannot expect Miss Theodosia to go to Hyde Park alone.”
“Of course not,” he responded. “Olivia can accompany her.”
Lady Wilton’s expression didn’t waver, but her lips pressed into a firmer line. “I would feel much more at ease if you were to accompany them. For appearances, naturally.”
Lord Wilton gave a quiet sigh and folded the newssheets before setting them aside. “Very well,” he said with a reluctant nod. “Though I maintain it is entirely unnecessary.”
“Oh, you three will have such a delightful time,” Lady Wilton declared, clearly pleased.
“Now hold on for a moment,” Lord Wilton said, turning to Theodosia. “I’ve yet to hear whether Miss Theodosia actually wishes to go.”
Theodosia lowered her cup to its saucer and glanced between mother and son. “I believe it sounds lovely,” she responded. “I have always wanted to see Hyde Park.”
Lord Wilton gave her a pointed look. “You do understand, of course, that Rotten Row is less a scenic stroll and more a theatrical parade? A place for the ton to observe and be observed.”
“I suppose that sounds… delightful,” she said, though a note of hesitation slipped into her voice.
“Then I must have misrepresented it,” he said with a dry smile. “Because there is nothing delightful about it.”
“Oh, hush,” Lady Wilton chided gently. “It’s a ritual for any young woman with even the slightest association to Society.”
“But I’m not in Society,” Theodosia protested, her brow furrowing.
“No,” Lady Wilton conceded, “but you are the companion to the daughter of a marquess. That alone places you within its peripheral circles. Appearances must be made.”
Theodosia bit back the first response that came to mind. Wasn’t a companion meant to be discreet, unobtrusive? Present but not prominent?
She opened her mouth to voice her thoughts, but Lord Wilton spoke before she could. “There’s little use in protesting. My mother tends to get her way.”
Lady Wilton offered an unapologetic smile. “It is true.”
With a faint sigh, Theodosia picked up her fork and murmured, “Are companions always expected to be quite so… visible?”
“Do you object?” Lord Wilton asked. “Because if so, we might be forced to lock you up in the townhouse and deny you access to fresh air and polite company.”
A laugh escaped her lips. “Well, when put in those terms, I suppose appearing in Society is the lesser punishment. At least there, one is allowed a bonnet and the occasional lemon ice.”
Lord Wilton cast a glance towards the long clock in the corner. “If you’ve no pressing engagements this morning, I had hoped you might assist me in reviewing the estate accounts.”
Setting her fork down on her plate, Theodosia pushed back her chair and stood with barely contained eagerness. “I would love nothing more. We can go now—”
He held up a hand to still her, his lips twitching. “There is no urgency, Miss Theodosia. You should finish your breakfast first.”
“My apologies,” she said, returning to her seat. “I do tend to become rather overenthusiastic when ledgers are involved.”
Lord Wilton regarded her with evident amusement. “Of course. A perfectly ordinary reaction.”
She grinned. “My instructors at my boarding school certainly didn’t think so, but at least they never discouraged me.”
Lady Wilton, who had been quietly buttering her toast, glanced up with interest. “And your father? Did he approve of your intellectual prowess?”
“He did more than approve. He believed, quite firmly, that one day women would be educated alongside men in every subject. He always told me never to dull my mind simply to fit into the expectations of others,” Theodosia said.
“A fine sentiment,” Lady Wilton responded, “though I fear it may be some time before such a notion is widely accepted.”
Lord Wilton reached for his glass of water. “And does your sister share your fascination with numbers?”
“Heavens, no. My sister detested school and left as soon as she could. She pursued other... interests.”
“Dare I ask what those interests entailed?”
Theodosia grew quiet. “I couldn’t say with certainty. We’re not particularly close. Our meetings are infrequent and often too brief to speak of anything meaningful.”
“That is unfortunate,” Lady Wilton murmured, her expression thoughtful.
A new thought sparked in Theodosia’s mind. “I do wonder if she will read the article about me in the newssheets. At the very least, she’ll know I am enjoying myself.”
Lord Wilton studied her intently. “And are you enjoying your time here?”
“I am,” she said.
He held her gaze a moment longer, something unreadable passing through his expression before he cleared his throat. “Well then. Shall we eat before we adjourn to the study?”
She reached for her fork again. “I suppose that would be the sensible thing to do.”
Leaning in slightly, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to abandon breakfast entirely and go work on the accounts now?”
She sprang from her seat in mock delight. “The accounts, without question!”
Lord Wilton chuckled, standing as well. “Very well, Miss Theodosia. Come along. We have lots of work ahead of us.”
They had just crossed the threshold when Lady Wilton’s voice called after them. “I shall send a maid into the study, of course. For propriety’s sake.”
Lord Wilton paused, turning just enough to address his mother over his shoulder. “Whatever you think best, Mother.”
Theodosia glanced back as well and couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in Lady Wilton’s eyes. It was the sort of look that suggested amusement mingled with mischief, as though she were two steps ahead of them both in a game they hadn’t realized they were playing.