Chapter 20
Alexander had returned to London with a single purpose: to find Theodora and let her know that her experiment was driving him crazy. She truly was a sorceress who put a spell on him.
But what he had not expected was to find that Theodora had not missed a single event, and her experiment continued...without him. He could hardly believe that he witnessed her dance with another man.
“Lord Ebenezer,” he hissed the young man’s name like a curse.
His jaw tightened and heat flared in his chest. He was angry and surprisingly jealous. It took all his strength not to march across the ballroom and separate them immediately. But when he saw Theodora stopping their dance with a thunderous expression, Alexander’s mood shifted instantly.
His eyes never left Theodora and when she noticed him, the familiar blush painted her cheeks. Alexander swallowed. Only he should have that effect on her. He glared at Lord Ebenezer who, to his utter confusion, turned, spotted him, and smiled.
“What the devil is going on?” he muttered and decided to approach them.
Every muscle in his shoulders coiled.
If he touched her improperly or made her uncomfortable, I will—
Lord Ebenezer bowed politely when Alexander reached them. “Your Grace. It is an honor. I am a great admirer of your fighting abilities. You are truly legendary.”
Alexander’s brow furrowed deeply. “Ah. Thank you.”
“I hope to see you in the ring again soon,” Ebenezer added.
Alexander’s gaze flicked to Theodora, who was very pointedly not looking at him. “I will let you know if any interesting matches arise,” he said, “if you allow me a dance with the captivating Miss Dowell.”
Lord Ebenezer grinned. “Of course. She is all yours.”
Theodora looked appalled as Ebenezer left. The man was blissfully unaware of the storm he had just dodged.
Alexander extended his hand and said tightly, “Miss Dowell.”
She placed her hand in his angrily. Her fingers were stiff, and her posture was rigid as they began to dance. Both of them wore matching scowls.
“You seem to have been very busy this past week,” Alexander said so low that it sounded like a growl.
“So have you,” she shot back. “Leaving London without a word.”
“I had matters to attend to elsewhere.”
“And so did I.”
He tightened his hold slightly when she tried to pull away. “Stop running away from me.”
“I am not running,” she hissed.
“You are trying to, right now, and I refuse to let you go.”
Alexander’s words shocked them both.
Theodora jerked her hand free and walked away from him slowly.
He opened his mouth to stop her, but he did not want to cause a scene, so he slowly followed her instead.
She turned a corner and quickly strode out of the ballroom, weaving through guests with quick, furious steps as she tried to lose him.
But Alexander followed her until they reached a quiet veranda. The cool night air and moonlight spilled across the stone floor, silvering her gown and silhouetting her figure. He was tempted to reach out and hold her to him.
“Theo,” he called.
“Leave me alone,” she said without turning.
“I am finding that hard to do. And I am certain that you are too.”
She faced him with blazing, tear-filled eyes.
“Our deal has come to an end, Alex.” Her tone was final, but Alexander did not give up so easily.
He stalked towards her and stopped a few paces away. “Have you found a new subject? Is that what this is? Is it Lord Ebenezer?”
Theodora shook her head and laughed. “There is no other subject. It was not meant to go this far, Alex. You helped me with my experiment.” Her voice trembled with anger. “You got what you wanted, and I have what I needed.”
“And what would that be?”
“I have my answer.”
Theodora lifted her chin high, eyes bright with a fire he had never seen before.
“What is your answer?” he asked her gruffly.
“Love is nothing but an illusion,” she said coldly. “Love is just a word people tell each other to disguise their lust and make their pathetic lives seem less painful and lonely.”
Theodora glared at him, and Alexander noticed the hurt in her eyes.
She lowered her gaze and tried to escape him again, but he caught her wrist just in time.
He stepped closer, crowding her against the cool stone balustrade of the veranda until her back met the railing.
The distant music of the ball drifted through the open doors behind them.
Out here, shadowed by climbing roses, they were utterly alone.
Alexander pressed close to her and felt her body tremble in response. His lips brushed the shell of her ear and he whispered darkly, “What is so wrong with lust, Theo?”
He felt her shiver at the heat of his breath against her skin.
Slowly, deliberately, he released her wrist only to slide his hand up her bare arm, fingertips tracing the sensitive line from elbow to shoulder.
Gooseflesh rose in their wake. When he reached the delicate slope where neck met shoulder, he let his thumb stroke slow, lazy circles over her racing pulse.
Theodora’s breath hitched audibly. Her free hand lifted as if to push him away, but instead her fingers curled into the lapel of his coat, clutching and holding on to him.
He smiled against her ear and pressed his body flush to hers, letting her feel the hard length of his arousal through layers of silk and wool. His other hand found her waist, fingers splaying wide, thumb brushing the underside of her breast in a slow, teasing arc.
She gasped, and the sound was soft and broken.
“See?” he murmured, lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her earlobe. “Your body does not lie. It wants me. It aches for me. Just like mine craves you at every waking moment and throughout all my sleepless nights.”
“We cannot—”
Before she could protest, he tilted her chin up with two fingers and claimed her mouth.
The kiss was not gentle. It was hungry and consuming.
His tongue swept past her parted lips, tasting the faint sweetness of champagne.
Theodora made a small, desperate sound into his mouth and kissed him back, fierce, and frantic.
Her hands slid up to fist in his hair. She arched against him, breasts pressing to his chest, hips rocking once in helpless need.
Heat roared through Alexander. He groaned low in his throat, deepening the kiss as one hand slid down to grip her hip and pull her tighter against the insistent press of his member.
But Theodora abruptly pulled back and tore her mouth from his. Her chest heaved and her lips were swollen and glistening.
“This is wrong,” she whispered breathlessly. “Someone could catch us.”
Alexander’s eyes never left her face.
He brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek with his thumb and spoke huskily, “Then meet me, tonight. At my house where no one will ask any questions.”
Theodora stared at him, eyes wide and stormy, lips still parted from his kiss. For one suspended heartbeat he thought she might say yes but she shook her head instead and pulled free of his hold.
“I never want to see you again,” she hissed at him, turned and slipped back through the doors into the blaze of candlelight and laughter inside Thornwall estate.
Alexander remained on the veranda, alone with the night air and the ache she had left behind. He dragged a hand over his mouth, tasting her there, and let out a low, rueful laugh.
* * *
Observation, Day Six
The subject returned to London after an absence of approximately seven days.
During this period, I experienced a persistent state of physiological restlessness characterized by elevated heart rate, disrupted sleep cycles, and an inability to maintain cognitive focus on any task of academic value.
Symptoms bear resemblance to the early stages of what certain physicians classify as “female hysteria,” though I find the diagnosis both insulting and scientifically unsound.
Nevertheless, the correlation between the subject’s absence and my symptoms is undeniable.
Upon the subject’s reappearance, the aforementioned physiological disturbances intensified.
Notably, during a private interaction when the subject initiated physical contact.
The response was immediate and alarmingly strong.
I have not experienced this with a different subject who initiated physical contact through a dance.
I experienced a surge of autonomic activity.
Accelerated pulse, warmth across the thoracic region, and a marked decrease in rational processing to name a few.
For a moment, I nearly permitted the interaction to progress further, which would have been catastrophic for both my reputation and the integrity of this experiment. I terminated the encounter in time.
This experiment is proving increasingly hazardous.
Not in the physical sense, but in its capacity to compromise my objectivity, my composure, and perhaps even my future.
If the purpose of this study were to determine whether “love” is a measurable, rational phenomenon, the results thus far suggest that it is neither.
It is chaos disguised as sentiment. A chemical illusion.
A narrative constructed to make human desire appear noble rather than inconvenient.
I desire the subject, but I do not love him.
And what does it matter if I am ruined? My future is already being arranged by others. I will likely be married off to a man such as Lord Ebenezer. Although, pleasant enough, he is convinced that my life’s work is a “hobby.” A diversion or something to be indulged and not respected.
If that is to be my fate, then this experiment must end before it destroys what little autonomy I possess.
Conclusion: The subject’s own experience and influence is too strong. The variables are compromised and the experiment must be discontinued before I fall into a state of complete hysteria.