Chapter 1 #2
Theo frowned. He had always found his sister-in-law perfectly adequate as a guardian to Antoinette. “You find her cold?”
“As the ocean,” Marcus said. “A new viscountess, one with a significant dowry, could bring some warmth—quite literally—back to this place. Not to mention save the estate.”
For a moment, Theo let himself imagine it. An heiress, one whose laughter might ring through the halls, whose smile might light up the long, dark nights of Cornwall. A mother for Antoinette. And yet…
He had promised himself he would never remarry. That he would never trap another woman in a life she did not want. The guilt pounded against his chest, as if trying to get out, and he licked his lips, which had gone suddenly dry.
“No,” he said, his voice harsher and raspier than he had expected. “I cannot marry again.”
Marcus’s mouth twitched. “And what about Antoinette? How will it be for her to have to retrench, or else lose her inheritance? What kind of life will she have?”
Theo opened his mouth to answer, even though he had no response, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. It creaked open, and a young girl poked her head through.
Antoinette had her mother’s pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. Very little of the Harrington darkness had made it into her features, the dark hair and even darker eyes. She was fair and delicate.
And as she came into the study, a piece of paper clutched in her ink-stained hands, she looked even smaller next to the dark, masculine furnishings.
“Good morning, Papa,” she murmured, her eyes flickering from Marcus to Theo.
“Good morning,” Theo said, rising at once and coming around the desk to face her. “What are you doing here, child?”
“I wanted to show you my letters,” she said, her voice small and squeaky. She trembled slightly, as if nervous, but held out the piece of paper all the same. “Nanny says they are quite splendid.”
Theo took the paper and looked down at the letters which she had written. They were shaky and the ink smudged, but all correct, and some even quite masterful. Pride burned in his chest, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral.
“These are excellent,” he said, handing her back the paper and offering a small, restrained smile. “Very well done, Antoinette.”
She smiled tentatively up at him, and he had to restrain himself from reaching down and pulling her into a hug. That is not how one interacts with a child, not how a father teaches discipline and respect.
“Thank you, Papa,” she mumbled. “I wanted to make you proud.”
“I am proud,” he said, and her smile widened considerably.
“Mistress Antoinette,” Marcus said, standing up and bowing. “How do you do, little one?”
Antoinette smiled and curtsied. “How do you do, Lord Marcus?”
“You like living here in Falmouth, do you not, young mistress?”
“Oh, yes,” Antoinette said, brightening up at once. “I love to watch the boats come in and play with the seagulls! Even though Papa says I should not play with them. They can be dangerous…” She looked guiltily up at Theo. “I think they are nice birds.”
“And you would not want to move away, would you?” Marcus asked, his eyes dancing.
“Marcus…” Theo warned, but Antoinette was already shaking her head.
“I hope to spend my whole life at Falmouth!”
Marcus turned to Theo, his eyebrows raised. “Then I hope you shall, Mistress Antoinette. I hope you shall…”
Theo’s heart was beating painfully in his chest. He knew what his friend was doing, and it was with a grim sense of inevitability that he knelt down in front of Antoinette.
This is for her, he told himself, as he set his hands on her arms and looked her in the eyes. She felt so small and fragile, her arms too thin under his large hands, and a surge of something dark and protective went through him.
I cannot let anything happen to her.
“Papa might have to go away for a while,” he murmured. “Just for a few weeks. I have business in London.”
Antoinette’s lip quivered. “Please do not go, Papa…”
“It would be only for a short time. And when I am back, we will have fires lit in the house again. You would like that, would you not?”
Antoinette nodded, but he could tell it was reluctantly. She then lurched forward and threw her arms around him. “I will miss you, Papa,” she whispered into his neck. “Ever so much.”
Theo closed his eyes as he hugged her back, pain moving through him like an uncoiling. He did not want to leave Antoinette. In the seven years since she was born, he had hardly ever left her side. But if he was to protect her, and her future, then he would have to do this.
For her.
Because the more wealth that he accumulated, the more insulated she would be from the truth. And the truth, he knew, would destroy her.
Unfortunately, Theo’s reluctance to go to London was only confirmed upon his arrival. From the moment his carriage pulled into London five days later, he was struck by the sheer volume of the place.
From tradesmen hawking their wares to builders hammering away at the roads, to carriages rattling past and church bells chiming out the time every quarter of an hour, to the endless chatter of people that seemed to fill everything but the most secluded Mayfair streets, London was loud.
And Theo hated loud. As he stood in the parlor of the townhouse he’d had to reopen—at great expense and difficulty, he thought dubiously—watching out the window as carriages rolled past, their wheels clacking loudly over the cobblestones, and dogs barking in the distance, Theo reflected on how much he already missed the quiet and solitude of Falmouth.
Maybe part of the problem was that opening the house had been a nightmare. Servants had to be brought from Falmouth, the bedrooms aired, and the kitchen thoroughly cleaned.
The house was still dusty and half the sofas in the parlor were still covered in sheets. Everything looked shabby, from the old velvet curtains in the windows to the faded Persian rug on the ground, to the Louis XIV-style settee that sagged when he sat on it.
As he gazed out over the square, the door behind him opened, and he turned to see Marcus striding into the room, his smile wide and his light-brown hair floppy. As always, he looked impeccable in a black jacket and blue and silver brocade waistcoat.
“So you have arrived!” he boomed, clapping his hands together. “And you are getting settled in with remarkable speed.”
Theo threw him a skeptical look. “The house is a mess. And the furnishings are…”
“Old-fashioned?” Marcus looked around and laughed. “Well, yes. But you are still the Viscount Falmouth, and no one will dare to say anything about the quaint nature of the decor.”
“They will say worse,” Theo said dryly. “The rumors still follow me. I am sure of it.”
“Then you must do everything you can to counteract them,” Marcus said, throwing himself down on the sagging settee and crossing his ankle over his knee.
“You must accept every social invitation, appear at every ball and musicale, try to get a voucher for Almack’s…
Anything that will put the rumors to bed once and for all.
You have neglected your title for long enough, and now it is time to reclaim your rightful place in society. ”
“I have not neglected it,” Theo snapped. “I have been in hiding. You know what they say about me…”
“I do,” Marcus sighed. “But if you are to do well here, you must mingle with the best of society until no one can possibly associate you with such ghastly rumors. You do not just have yourself to think about,” he added.
“You must also think of Antoinette’s future.
You will have to introduce her to society eventually, and when you do, her chances of marrying well will depend on your reputation and connections. And your wealth, of course.”
Theo tried to breathe, but suddenly found he could not.
Antoinette’s future… Her marriage… He had not even thought that far ahead. But if he wanted to give her any kind of success, he would have to start playing the game.
His cravat suddenly felt too tight, and he could not breathe properly. His chest felt tight, and the world was beginning to tilt.
“Fear not,” he heard Marcus ask from a great distance, “for I have already lined up several invitations for you. My brother is throwing a ball at our family house, and you will be invited. It will be the perfect place to reintroduce yourself to society.”
“I think—I think I need some air,” Theo gasped. He reached for his cravat and tried to loosen it, but it would not budge. “Pardon me,” he managed to say. “I am going for a walk. I will return shortly.”
And without looking at Marcus, he practically sprinted from the room, then down the hall and out the door, into the cool, spring air. What he needed was not just a walk, but a safe place. A sanctuary where he might rest from everything that was threatening to undo him.
And, if memory served, he knew exactly where that would be.