Chapter 5
Thea
Thea hadn't been back to the Fox in three nights. How could she risk facing Wesley again disguised as Kit, when she didn't know what to do with what she'd heard?
She should have left the table. The moment Louis said her name, she should have excused herself and disappeared into the crowd before Wesley could say another word.
Instead she'd sat there frozen, dealing cards with trembling fingers while the man she loved confessed everything she'd spent years longing to hear.
I want her. I've always wanted her.
The words had been playing on a loop in her mind ever since. In the bath. Over breakfast. In the quiet moments between conversations, her thoughts drifted back to that dim room and Wesley admitting what she'd never dared to hope.
And now she was standing in her mother's ballroom, watching him from across the room, and she still didn't know what to do.
Wesley had arrived with Louis and Max just after ten. He looked tired, she thought. All she wanted to do was cross the room and smooth the tension from his shoulders. But she couldn't do that. Not in front of everyone, and not when she was still carrying a secret that could ruin everything.
She'd heard him say he wanted her. But he didn't know she’d heard it. If he knew she'd been sitting across from him the whole time, hiding behind a cap and a rough voice, listening to every word . . . it might ruin everything.
Thea knew she must tell him. But she still hadn’t found the words.
To tell him she knew and felt the same meant she also had to tell him about her double life.
She’d have to tell him how she had spent those evenings at the card table with him.
And she wasn’t certain he would react favorably to any of it.
Thea danced with two gentlemen, but she hardly spoke to either of them. She made conversation with her mother's friends and pretended to care about the latest gossip. But the whole time, she watched Wesley.
Each time their eyes met, her pulse jumped. She felt more exposed than ever, certain that everyone could see the longing written across her face.
I thought she'd be happier without me.
God, they were both fools. Years of wanting, years of waiting, and it had all been for nothing. She could have had him this entire time. That was the cruelest tragedy of all.
She found him again standing near the doors to the terrace, alone for once, and Thea made her decision.
She couldn't tell him about Kit. Not here in the middle of her mother’s ball.
That conversation would require much more privacy, in the event he reacted as she feared he would.
What she could tell him was how she felt.
She could give him the opening he needed, and they could stop dancing around this thing between them.
Whatever happened after that—whatever he thought when he eventually learned the truth—at least they would finally know what was possible between them.
She crossed the room before she lost her nerve. “Your Grace. You look like you could use some air.”
Wesley's eyes met hers. There was a desire in his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. What a bloody fool she’d been. “Thea. You’ve most certainly read my mind.”
She tilted her head toward the terrace doors. “Care to take a walk with me?”
He offered his arm without hesitation. “Lead the way.”
The terrace was empty, the night air cool against Thea's heated skin. She led him past the stone balustrade, down the steps, and into the garden. The music from the ballroom faded as they walked, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant splash of the fountain.
“I wanted to speak with you,” she said when they were far enough from the house that no one would overhear. “Alone.”
Wesley stopped walking. In the moonlight, his face was all sharp angles and shadows. His expression remained guarded. “That sounds ominous.”
“It's not. At least, I hope it's not.” Thea turned to face him. “Wesley, I—”
She didn't know how to say it. She'd rehearsed a dozen versions of this conversation, but now that she was here, the words wouldn't come. How did you tell someone you’ve wanted them for years?
“Thea.” His voice was rough. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
She looked up at him—at the tension in his jaw, the way his hands were clenched at his sides, the hope he was trying so hard to hide. She could read him clearer than she ever had before.
Her heart stopped, and she opened her mouth to speak, but still no words came.
Before she even knew what she was doing, she kissed him.
It wasn't graceful. She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, her hands fisting in the lapels of his coat. For one terrible moment, he was frozen. She thought she'd made a mistake.
Then his arms came around her, and he kissed her back.
There was nothing tender about it. The heat and hunger from years of wanting each other broke open all at once. His mouth moved against hers, demanding, and she opened for him with a sound she didn't recognize as her own.
“Thea.” He groaned her name against her lips, his hands sliding down her back to grip her bottom. “God, Thea, I've wanted—”
“Me, too.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Wesley, I've always only wanted you.”
He kissed her again, deeper, his fingers tangling in her hair. Pins scattered as her careful coiffure came undone, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered except his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, the solid heat of him pressed against her.
When they broke apart, both of them breathing hard, Thea's mind was racing. They were in the garden. Anyone could see them. And she wanted more—so much more—than stolen kisses in the dark.
“Come with me,” she said, her voice unsteady. She took his hand and led him back toward the house. They slipped through a side door, avoiding the ballroom, and made their way down a darkened corridor. Her body ached with want. She'd waited years for this. She wasn't going to wait another minute.
Wesley's eyes were dark, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “What are we doing?”
“I need you, Wesley.”
The study that Thea pulled them into was dark. She locked the door behind them and turned to find Wesley watching her with an expression caught between desire and restraint.
“Thea.” He stepped toward her, cupping her face in his hands. “I need you to know that this isn't just tonight for me. I want you by my side—”
She kissed him again, softer this time. “I want that, too. But right now, I need you to stop talking and touch me, Wes.”
His control snapped.
He backed her against the door, his mouth finding hers. His hands were everywhere—her breasts, her hips, the curve of her backside through her gown. She arched into him, her breath catching when she felt the hard length of him press against her belly.
“I've thought about this,” he said against her neck. “Every night. What you'd feel like. What you'd taste like.”
“Then stop talking about it and show me.”
He fisted her skirts, working his hand beneath them, traveling up her thigh.
“Wesley—” She gasped as his fingers brushed along her seam.
“Christ, Thea.” His voice was rough against her ear. “You're so wet.”
“I've been thinking about you all night.” She rocked against his hand. “Every night for years.”
He groaned and slid two fingers inside her. She moaned, her head leaning back against the door as he worked her with his hand. The pleasure built with each stroke, and his lips found hers again.
“I need—” She was panting. “Wesley, I need—”
“Tell me what you need.”
“I told you. I want you, Wesley. Make me yours.”
She heard him fumble with the buttons of his breeches to free himself. Then his hand was gone, and his thick cock pressed against her entrance. He paused, his breath ragged against her neck.
“Thea.” His voice was strained. “I must stop this madness. Your first time can’t be against a door in—”
“It won't be my first time.”
He went still, and there was pain in his brown eyes.
“William and I—” She forced herself not to look away from him, even if she hated what she had to admit.
“Well, we were going to be married. And I thought if I couldn't have you, I should at least try to want someone else.” She swallowed.
“But it was you I thought about. Even then. It was always you.”
For a long moment, Wesley didn't speak.
“Thea,” he leaned his forehead against hers. “Why? Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt, or give me any indication?”
“Why didn’t you?” The fault that they hadn’t already found their way to each other was not hers alone.
He groaned and his cock was still hard at her opening.
She sank her fingers into his hair and forced him to look at her. “There is nothing we can do to change the past. But we are here together now, and I am yours, Wes.”
Wesley gripped her thigh, raised her leg to rest on his hip, and thrust inside her.
They both groaned at the sensation. He was bigger than William had been, stretching her in a way that bordered on pain but felt impossibly good.
“You are mine.” His voice was rough, almost guttural, as he began to move. “I’m going to make sure you don’t ever forget it.”
Her breath caught from the intensity of the pleasure. “Yes. I always have been, Wes.”
Whatever restraint he'd been holding onto shattered. He drove into her harder, faster, one hand gripping her hip while the other slid between them to tease between her thighs.
“Please say you’ll marry me,” he said against her ear. “This will never be enough. I need you every second of every day, sweetheart. Please marry me.”
“Yes.” She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. “I’m marrying you, Wes.”
The pleasure was building, winding tighter with each of his thrusts. His fingers circled her most sensitive spot while he continued to drive into her, and she felt herself climbing toward release.
“Come for me, Thea.” His breath was hot against her neck. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
The words pushed her over the edge. She cried out, clenching around him as pleasure crashed through her. She felt him follow a moment later—his hips jerking, a groan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside her.
They stayed like that for a long moment, both of them breathing hard, still joined. Wesley pressed his forehead against hers again, his arm coming around her waist to hold her steady.
He kissed her, soft and deep, and she felt tears prick her eyes. This was real. After years of wanting, they were finally here.
“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “I should have told you years ago.”
“I love you too.” She kissed him again. “I've always loved you.”
They straightened their clothing in the dark, helping each other look presentable.
Thea's hair was a lost cause. She'd have to slip up to her room and fix it before anyone saw her, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Her body was still humming, and Wesley kept looking at her with that expression that made her chest ache.
“I'll call on you tomorrow,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We'll do this properly. I’ll speak to your mother, and then we shall announce the betrothal.”
“That sounds lovely,” she agreed.
He snuck out of the study first. Thea waited a few minutes before following, making her way up the servants' stairs to her bedchamber.
It wasn't until she was alone, staring at her disheveled reflection in the mirror, that the weight of what she'd done settled over her.
She'd said yes. She was going to marry Wesley. She was going to be a duchess.
Everything she had ever dreamed was coming true. But he didn’t know everything. He didn't know about Kit.
Thea sank onto her vanity stool. Things had escalated so quickly. She’d intended to tell him everything before things got out of hand. And instead she'd kissed him, bedded him, and agreed to marry him. Even now because of what happened, she could be with his child, and still carry her secret.
He deserved to know who he was marrying.
Not just Lady Theodora, proper spinster, but the woman who also played the part of Kit Barton, who snuck out at night in breeches and took money from aristocrats in gaming hells.
The woman who'd been sitting at that card table while he confessed his deepest feelings, and who hadn't said a word.
What would he think when he found out? Would he understand, or would he see it as betrayal? Or worse, an attempt to trap him.
And even if he forgave her—even if he accepted that his future wife was the scruffy gambler he'd lost money to—would he expect her to stop? Even if the funds had been put to a worthy cause.
Would becoming his duchess mean giving up her freedom forever?
She had to tell him. Soon. Before this went any further. She hoped that he would understand. That he meant what he said—that he loved her, and would love all of the woman she had become, and not just who she had been.
The clock on the mantel chimed one. Somewhere below, her mother's guests were still dancing, unaware that the hostess’s spinster daughter had just agreed to marry the Duke of Greystone. Thea splashed cool water on her face, pinned her hair into something passable, and went back downstairs.
She touched her lips, still swollen from his kisses. They couldn’t have a true marriage without her coming clean. But she would push that from her mind, for now.
For the rest of the night, she must play her part and hope she’d be able to find the right words tomorrow.