Chapter 15
Observation, Day Four
Subject demonstrated an unexpectedly advanced understanding of female physiological pleasure responses. His ability to elicit such reactions surpassed all previously recorded hypotheses and exceeded any descriptions found in literature.
Hypothesis: Such proficiency is unlikely to be accidental. It suggests prior study either through experience or deliberate exploration of a woman’s body and its sensitivities. This level of knowledge correlates more strongly with lust-driven behavior than with emotional attachment.
Data Collected— Subject identified and stimulated precise areas associated with heightened sensory response.
My own reactions were immediate, intense, and beyond any theoretical expectation.
The experience indicates that physical intimacy, when executed by someone practiced, can override rational thought entirely.
Preliminary Conclusion— Men capable of producing such effects are likely motivated by desire rather than affection. Their skill set aligns with behavioral patterns of individuals who pursue pleasure as a study, not a sentiment. (rakes)
Emotional Note (unscientific, but unavoidable): The subject’s actions rendered me momentarily incapable of objective reasoning. This confirms that physical gratification can mimic or be mistaken for emotional connection. Therefore, it cannot be used as evidence of love.
Further study required?
Theodora sat at her desk with her notebook open, and her quill poised. The ink dried on the last question. She had been staring at the same page for nearly an hour. She skipped breakfast and tried her best to ignore the gnawing thoughts Alexander planted in her mind.
He has befuddled me.
She knew what she had to do to conduct her research, but she was beginning to doubt her decisions and question her own motives. Theo had never questioned her intelligence before but with him, nothing made sense.
She was supposed to be writing down her new findings as well as documenting Rosalind’s progress. Instead, her mind kept drifting back to Alexander and the way he kneeled before her, low, and reverently, as though she were his queen and he was born to give her pleasure.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering how his kiss alone could cause her to come undone so completely.
Unhinged desire was not part of her experiment.
And yet she could not think of wanting anything else as badly as she wanted him.
She dipped her quill again, determined to force her mind back into order as she grabbed her second notebook.
Observation Day Two of Melancholy: Rosalind Hawthorne responded positively to—
Her quill paused. She exhaled sharply and set it down, then uncharacteristically tore the page and shredded it.
This is useless.
She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples when a headache threatened to form. She had left Hawthorne House in a rush, telling herself she needed distance, clarity, and control. But she had not found any of those things.
She had found only a greater distraction and sisterly bond with a young girl she barely knew. And to top it all off, she felt a strange, aching warmth she did not know how to name.
Surely it is not love.
She was so lost in thought that she did not hear her mother enter the chamber until Lady Dowell spoke.
“You look flustered, darling.”
Theodora jolted upright and shut her notebooks. “Mother! I didn’t hear you.”
Lady Dowell smiled knowingly as she crossed the room. “Are you certain? You were miles away. I called your name twice.”
Theo flushed. “I was… thinking.”
“Mm.” Her mother’s eyes sparkled. “About a man?”
Theo sighed and rolled her eyes playfully. “No. Of course not.”
Her mother raised a brow. “You are a terrible liar.”
She looked away, heat rising in her cheeks. “It is nothing.”
“It is never nothing when a young woman looks like that,” Lady Dowell said gently. “You are practically glowing.”
Theo groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I am not glowing, Mama.”
“If you say so, dear,” her mother insisted, amused. “But I am your mother. I know these things.”
Theo lowered her hands slowly. “Mother…”
Lady Dowell sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at Theo cheekily. “Tell me, darling, truthfully. Is there someone?”
Theo hesitated. She could not tell her mother about Alexander, and she could not tell her the truth about her father either. Her secrets piled up and began to feel heavy.
So, she asked the first question that came to mind instead.
“May I ask you something, Mother?” She spoke softly.
“Of course, dear, although I do not believe that I can answer any of your scientific questions as thoroughly as you do.”
Theodora always admired her mother’s humility, especially since they both knew that the Viscountess was just as intelligent as her daughter. So, she never understood why her mother spoke so lowly about herself.
Theo took a deep breath before she asked her, “Do you still love Father the same way you did when you first met?”
Her mother looked taken aback and surprised by the question. “Oh… that is quite a question.”
Theo swallowed. “I apologize; I just want to understand.”
Lady Dowell folded her hands in her lap. “Love changes over time, Theodora. It grows. It deepens. And it becomes…something different.”
Theo frowned. “Different how?”
“Well,” her mother said thoughtfully, “when I first met your father, I loved him with excitement. With anticipation. With the thrill of something new. Now I love him with understanding. With patience and with a lot of history.”
Theo tried to follow, but the words felt slippery, abstract, and impossible to grasp. Especially when she knew the truth about her father. Her mother smiled softly and she imagined that she was thinking of all the memories she shared with the Viscount.
“Love is a fickle thing, Theo. It is hard to describe and even harder to learn about without fully immersing yourself in it.”
“But it must be possible to learn. There is a scientific explanation for everything. Even love.” Theo argued stubbornly.
“You know, Theo, books and science can teach you many things. But, my darling, they cannot teach you everything.”
Theo stiffened. “Books are more reliable than men, Mother.”
“Yes, and books are safer than men too,” her mother added. “But a book could never love you or teach you how to love. Just like it cannot teach you to live. To truly live, you must go out and experience. You must fail and try again.”
Theo’s throat tightened.
Her mother got up and walked towards her, placing her hand gently over Theo’s shoulder. “Love is for the brave ones, Theo.”
She looked down at her notebook lying on the desk like a confession. Her mother followed her gaze.
“What are you writing?” she asked.
Theo panicked.
“Nothing,” she said too quickly, grabbing the notebook.
Her mother’s brows lifted. “May I see?”
“No!” Theo clutched the notebook to her chest. “It’s private.”
Lady Dowell blinked at the intensity of her reaction. “Theodora…”
“I don’t want anyone to read it,” Theo said, breath unsteady. “Not even you.”
Her mother’s expression softened immediately. “Very well. I will not pry.”
Theo exhaled shakily as relief washed through her and she felt guilty for snapping at her Mother.
But Lady Dowell smiled at her kindly. “I only want you to be happy.”
“I know, and I only want you to be happy too.”
Her mother looked a bit confused, but she did not ask anything.
“I am happy, dear. And I would be happier if you stopped hiding,” she added softly.
Theo’s heart lurched. She knew that there was definitely no scientific explanation for a mother’s mind. They truly knew everything.
“I am not hiding,” she whispered. “I am just afraid to show myself.”
Lady Dowell gave her an understanding look, and it pained her that her own Mother would know how it felt to be afraid to show her true self to the world.
“You are hiding behind your notebooks. Behind your theories. And behind your fears.”
Theo’s fingers tightened around the leather cover.
Her mother leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You are brave, Theodora. Braver than you think. Do not let fear convince you otherwise.”
Theo’s eyes fluttered shut and her mother left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. She sat there for a long moment, notebook pressed to her chest, and heart pounding.
She opened it slowly.
The pages were filled with observations, hypotheses, lists and all the things she had used to keep herself safe. But now, between the lines, she saw something else. She saw herself searching for a meaning behind it all. Theodora traced the edge of the page with trembling fingers.
Perhaps her mother was right, and books could only take her so far. She pressed her fingers to her temples.
I have made a mess of everything. I had ruined everything with Alexander and Rosalind.
She had allowed him to kiss her, touch her, and unravel her completely…
and then she had snapped at him like someone who was out of control.
It was her decision, it was her experiment, and she had no right to feel anger towards him.
She shook her head remembering how she left Rosalind and the look on her face.
She probably did not trust easily and then Theo broke her trust even further by offering an excuse and skipping their walk.
“Perhaps I do not know what I am doing,” she whispered into the empty room.
The admission felt like a crack in her ribs. Just as the words left her mouth, she heard a knock at the door.
Who could it be this time?
She hid the notebook, unable to look at the mess she had made of her experiment. She stood and paced the room nervously, trying to breathe, trying to think, and trying to be rational.
A second sharp knock at the door made her jump.
She froze and prayed that it was not her father. He was the last person she wanted to see.
Another knock followed, firmer this time.
“Miss Dowell,” their butler called from the hallway. “A letter has arrived for you. I was told that it was urgent.”
Her pulse stumbled. She crossed the room quickly and opened the door. The butler handed her a sealed envelope made from thick, expensive paper. She knew who it was from before she saw the Hawthorne crest pressed into the wax.
“Thank you, Mr. Carson.” He bowed and left.
Theodora closed the door, leaned against it, and stared at the envelope as though it might burn her fingers. She broke the seal with trembling hands and unfolded the letter.
What could he possibly want from me now?
The ink was fresh and the first word made her wince and roll her eyes.
Sorceress,
I will not pretend I understand your abrupt departure, nor will I pretend I have not thought of it. However, I write for another reason entirely.
Tomorrow evening, I will be fighting at The Iron Pit. It is not a place for the faint-hearted, nor is it a place where I would normally invite a lady. But you are not a typical lady.
Theo scoffed. “And what does he mean by that?” She continued reading.
I am sure that you are cursing me by now. What I truly meant was that you are curious. You are bold. You are far braver than you allow yourself to believe. And I find myself wanting to help you in your search to denounce the existence of true love.
Her fingers tightened around the parchment.
I know you may choose not to come, and I know you have reasons staying far away from such an establishment. But if you wish to observe something real, something unpolished, and something honest about me and men in general, then come.
Her stomach twisted.
I am certain a little sorceress like you will find a way to make it possible.
Be brave.
— The Scarlet Duke
Theo stared at the letter; her pulse pounded in her ears.
“The Iron Pit?” she muttered.
She’d heard about it housing a brutal underground boxing ring.
A place where men left bloodied and broken.
And some never returned at all. Theodora felt her frustration rise.
How could she have felt guilty about snapping at him?
The man was ridiculous. She suddenly knew how he’d hurt himself and why that blooming bruise had spread wide across his ribcage.
Are all men like him?
She convinced herself that she was upset at him for Rosalind’s sake but something else unsettled her.
“What the hell is he thinking?” she hissed, slamming the letter onto her desk. “He is already injured!”