Only You

by Cheryl Holt

  Who was the real wife to her father? Penelope? Mrs. Mountbank? Both of them? The notion was too bizarre to consider, but Theo had learned long ago that her father was capable of any depraved behavior.

  “Have you apprised her of our plan, Harold?” Mrs. Mountbank asked him.

  “I haven’t had time, Isobel. She’s been sassing me, and I can’t get a word in edgewise.”

  “Sassing you? Oh, darling, I’m sure she didn’t intend to be rude. She’s probably tired. Aren’t you tired, Theo? It had to have been grueling, traveling with Edna. And then the events in Cairo! Well, we simply don’t know what to say about it. What have you to say about it, Theo?”

  In that small number of sentences, Mrs. Mountbank had voiced so many shocking comments that Theo couldn’t decide where to start in addressing them. First and foremost, she was aghast that Mrs. Mountbank was fully conversant about Theo’s affair with Mr. Grey.

  It was Theo’s goal that she would never discuss the shameful liaison with anyone, and that included her father’s mother-in-law or paramour or whatever she was.

  She glared at Mrs. Mountbank and what spilled out was, “Who told you it was all right to move into my bedroom suite? Who told you I wouldn’t mind?”

  Mrs. Mountbank’s treacherous smile slipped for just a second. “It wasn’t a matter of you minding, Theo. Your father advised that I could pick the bedchamber I wanted, and I picked that one. It’s mine now, and you shouldn’t fret about it.”

  “I won’t,” Theo lied. She stared at Lord Wood. “Will that be all, Father?”

  “No. Isobel has devised a solution to your problem.”

  “What problem would that be? From where I’m sitting, I have no problem at all.”

  “Don’t you?” he seethed. “You’re ruined and disgraced. Again! You’re a twenty-three-year-old spinster. You’re back in my home where I have brought in a new family to run the place. With all of those issues on the table, can you actually suppose you have no problem?”

  “Are you demanding I leave? Is that what you desire? I’m glad to go. I really and truly don’t care what becomes of me.”

  “Yes, yes, Edna mentioned your deteriorated mental state. Perhaps you’d like to spend a few months at an asylum. In light of how deranged you’ve been acting, I could have you committed like that!”

  He snapped his fingers, the sound echoing off the high ceiling, and he preened, eager to imagine he’d frightened her. But he didn’t realize that the worst thing that could ever happen had already happened.

  Mr. Grey had promised to marry her, but he hadn’t meant it. He’d climbed onto his boat and sailed down the Nile so he’d never have to face her. For the rest of her life, no more painful event would ever transpire.

  “You can lock me away, Father, if that is what you want. I have no opinion either way.”

  Mrs. Mountbank butted in. “Now, now, no one’s committing anyone. I have the perfect answer for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mountbank,” Theo said, “but I fail to see why I am any of your business.”

  “Not my business!” she huffed. “And me, your father’s dearest friend? Don’t be silly. Calm down and listen to what I’ve arranged.”

  Theo gaped at the woman. Gossip had it that she was forty, but she looked much younger. She was short like her daughter and had Penelope’s same white-blond hair and violet eyes. Yet where Penelope was plump to the point of chubbiness, Mrs. Mountbank was thin as a rail.

  She was impeccably dressed in a lavender gown that was the height of fashion. She had jewels around her neck and wrists that Theo suspected had come from the family vault. She appeared rich and arrogant and bored, and Theo couldn’t stand her. What vile future would wash over all of them with her in control?

  “What is it?” Theo facetiously asked. “I’m on pins and needles waiting to hear.”

  “My brother-in-law, Bernard, has decided to wed, and we think he should wed you.”

  Theo blanched. “Me?”

  “Yes. Won’t it be grand?” Snootily, Mrs. Mountbank added, “He’s willing to have you despite the scandal.”

  “Why would I wish to have him?”

  “What other choice do you have, Theo?”

  Mrs. Mountbank and Lord Wood stared her down, their gazes irked and condemning. How long had they planned the match? Why would they have considered it?

  From her father’s previous betrothal attempt with Hedley, he didn’t have her best interests at heart. She would never trust him—it had been Lord Trent’s parting advice to her—and she would never, ever trust Mrs. Mountbank.

  Her father spoke up. “Isobel is in charge of my household.”

  “Well, darling,” Mrs. Mountbank cooed, “Penelope assumes she is, but we’ll let her have her little fantasy, won’t we?”

  Theo nearly gagged. “Yes, there have been changes. I asked if you wanted me to leave, Father. Just say so. Aunt Edna invited me to stay with her in town.”

  “Edna!” he chided. “After the trouble you managed in Cairo, you suppose I’d allow that shrew to watch over you ever again? It will never occur, Theodosia. You will live with Edna over my dead body.”

  “So instead, I should wed a stranger?”

  “He’s not a stranger to Isobel or myself. He’s a fine fellow, and it’s obvious you can’t pick for yourself. Not when you had the chance, and you selected that reprobate Soloman Grey. No, I am your father, and I shall pick. I know the sort of man you need.”

  “You used to think I needed Hedley Harrington.”

  “He would have been an excellent husband.”

  “There was that pesky issue of his mistress whom he never would have given up for me.”

  Mrs. Mountbank tutted with exasperation. “All men have mistresses, Theo. It’s the way of the world. Once you’ve matured, you’ll understand their drives a bit better.”

  “Be silent, Mrs. Mountbank,” Theo fumed. “I’m talking to my father.”

  “Honestly, Theo,” she retorted, “you don’t have to be rude. I am on your side.”

  “Aren’t I lucky?”

  “Bernard will be in London next week,” Lord Wood said. “We’ll remove to town and open the town house, and he’ll begin courting you.”

  “We’d like to have a Christmas wedding,” Mrs. Mountbank gushed. “Won’t that be romantic?”

  “Except for one problem,” Theo responded.

  “What problem?” her father snapped.

  “I will never wed, especially not a man I don’t love. I loved once, so I know how splendid it can be.”

  “Love is for children and fools,” her father pompously proclaimed.

  “You can cast me out,” she continued. “You can force me to live in a ditch out on the road if you’d like. But I won’t marry Mrs. Mountbank’s brother-in-law. You can’t make me. I’d kill myself first.”

  “Theodosia!” her father scolded.

  Head high, shoulders square, she spun and marched out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  While you were away, you had a visitor—a very pretty one.”

  “I warned you she’d show up here.”

  Soloman was in Valois’s office at the villa, with Valois seated behind his desk, and Soloman slouched in the chair across. He’d spent four long weeks on the Nile, giving Edna Wallace plenty of time to leave with Theo. Apparently, Mrs. Wallace had managed it with no difficulty.

  “I told you she’d rush over to speak with me,” he said. “It’s why I asked you to hide too. You didn’t talk to her, did you?”

  “No, I had the servants tell her I was away.” Valois rarely left the villa, but Theo hadn’t been notified of that pertinent fact.

  “I couldn’t have you meddling again,” Soloman said.

  “I wasn’t meddling,” Valois claimed. “I was matchmaking.”

  “Matchmaking? Is that what you call it?”

  “I thought the two of you were in love, and I was simply trying to spur matters to a conclusion.” Valois shrugged. “How
was I to know you didn’t care for her?”

  “I cared for her, but so what? It wasn’t as if I planned to marry the blasted girl.”

  “Didn’t you? I could swear I heard somewhere that you’d proposed to her.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  “My apologies then.”

  Valois was staring with that enigmatic expression he had, the one that could have meant anything. He had more schemes in the works than any person in the world.

  “The butler informs me,” Valois said, “that she was extremely distressed by your departure.”

  “I’m sure she got over it.”

  “When she read the letter you’d penned, her knees gave out. My butler had to grab her so she didn’t collapse to the ground.”

  “I doubt that very much. She probably tripped.”

  “Then Mrs. Wallace dragged her to England right away. They sailed the following morning.”

  “If they fled on the spur of the moment, it wasn’t because of me.”

  “No?” Valois assessed him. “Have you ever met Lady Theo’s father, Lord Wood?”

  “No, and I hope I never have the pleasure.”

  “Think of Mrs. Wallace and multiply her surly qualities by ten.”

  “Lady Theo must take after her mother.”

  “Oh, yes. Her mother was reputed to be very sweet, very adorable.”

  “Too bad the woman was partnered with an ogre then.”

  “Yes, it was too bad. Everyone said so.”

  Soloman scowled at him. “How do you know so much about people in England? Have you ever even been to London?”

  “Once, as a youngster was all, but you forget that I host many Brits. I live vicariously through all of them.”

  “You eavesdrop.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  Valois grinned, then glared, making Soloman feel as if he was in the schoolroom and about to be accused of an infraction.

  “I hate it when you look at me like that,” Soloman said.

  “Like what?” Valois was all innocence.

  “You’re trying to rattle me, but you can’t. I’m tired from my journey, and I intend to fall into bed and sleep for a week.”

  “A little bird told me that Lady Theo is supposedly betrothed to her neighbor.”

  “Funny, but I heard the same.”

  “Mrs. Wallace was spreading this story.”

  “That might be who apprised me.”

  “Well, it’s my duty to report that Lady Theo is not betrothed and there is no doting neighbor. Mrs. Wallace lied to you. It appears she assumed you had noble instincts where Theo was concerned.”

  Soloman sat very still. Mrs. Wallace had begged him to surrender his affection for Theo, and he had. It had infuriated him to do it, but he’d done it anyway. For once in his life, he’d decided to be gallant and good, when he’d never previously been either.

  He glowered at Valois. “And you know she’s not engaged because…?”

  “You’d be surprised by the news that drifts my way.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. You’re an interfering busybody, and you have spies everywhere.”

  “True.”

  “Why listen to gossip about her? We had a brief flirtation, but that’s it. I’m over her. Not that there was much to get over. She was amusing—I’ll say that for her—but she was incredibly exhausting.”

  Valois continued on as if Soloman hadn’t just denied her.

  “Mrs. Wallace deliberately chased you away. Doesn’t it gall you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  He wasn’t really lying.

  He should have realized how cunning Mrs. Wallace would be in separating them, but he’d been too flustered—by the exposure of the affair, by his sudden plan to elope—to pay attention, so his thinking had been muddled. She’d asked him to abandon Theo to a better future, and he had.

  In his trip down the Nile, he’d pondered Theo and his feelings for her. Ultimately, he’d figured he was very likely in love with her. But so what?

  He was still Soloman Grey, the most notorious rogue in the kingdom. He was too nefarious to even reside in the kingdom! He was a nomad, pariah, and outcast who’d been banished from polite society.

  While she’d been far from that society, she’d convinced herself that she could ignore it, that she could shuck off its rules and wed Soloman. But her father would never have given his permission. And if she’d proceeded without it, Lord Wood would never have forgiven her, and she would have been miserable over any breach with her family.

  She wasn’t the sort to cut ties or carry on as a vagabond. She’d grown up in her father’s house, and it was her home. She’d have tried to drag Soloman there, to pretend he was a country gentleman, but he’d slit his wrists rather than live that way.

  With his being cognizant of those facts, how could he bind himself to her? Yes, in the heat of passion, he’d promised to marry her, but he shouldn’t have. He had nothing to offer her, nothing that was worth having, and it wasn’t because of his current fiscal troubles.

  Once Caleb’s estate was settled, once Soloman’s and Benjamin’s inheritances were disbursed, he would be wealthy. He would definitely have been able to support Theo in a grand style.

  But that didn’t mean he’d return to England. He would never be accepted by the people in her world, so he would never, ever, be the man she needed. He’d been correct to push her away, and whether there was a fiancé in the picture or not, he’d still done the right thing.

  Edna Wallace might have tricked him into helping her whisk Theo away, and that aspect bothered him a bit. Yet the end result—Theo being back in England—had been the appropriate one. Mrs. Wallace had understood that notion very clearly, and she’d forced Soloman to understand it too.

  “Fine then, Soloman,” Valois smoothly said. “You didn’t love her, you don’t miss her, and you’re glad she gone.”

  “Yes, I’m glad she’s gone. I would have been an awful husband, and she’s better off without me.” His exasperation was mounting. “Could we talk about something else?”

  “Certainly. You’ve received another letter from your cousin, Benjamin.”

  “I assume you opened it.”

  “Absolutely. Had it been important, I would have sent a messenger down river to fetch you back.”

  “So…it wasn’t important?”

  “It was very important, but you already know what he wants.”

  “He wants me to come to London.”

  “He needs you to come to London.”

  “If he supposes our strutting about town together will be beneficial, he’s mad. It will merely stir ancient gossip so it becomes fresh and new again.”

  “If you don’t sign the papers, his lawyers insist the investiture can’t happen.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. If I suddenly dropped dead, I’m positive they could manage without me. Benjamin’s request makes no sense, and he’s simply being a pain in the ass.”

  “You have to go home, Soloman. It’s time.”

  “I don’t wish to, Valois. And it’s not home. My home is here in Cairo.”

  “Yes, it is, but for now you have to assist him.”

  “If I refuse to leave, will you kick me out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll pack my bags.”

  Valois threw up his hands in frustration. “Honestly, Soloman, you’re being especially obstinate.”

  “I always have been. Why do you imagine I’ve been living in Egypt for the past decade?”

  “You’re aware that I have no family,” Valois said.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  They’d been aristocrats, killed during The Terror. Valois had been away on holiday when their estate had been plundered. He’d been stranded in Egypt, and with revolution in the air in France, it had been too dangerous to return to Paris. He’d built a life for himself in Cairo and hadn’t ever left.

  “Benjamin and his mother,” Valois kept on, “a
re the only people connected to you.”

  “Poor them,” Soloman sarcastically muttered.

  “You’re lucky to have someone.”

  “You haven’t met his mother. If you had, you wouldn’t say so.”

  Valois caustically studied him as if he was a recalcitrant student who’d provided all the wrong answers.

  “Go home, Soloman,” he quietly said. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. Make an old man happy.”

  Soloman scoffed. “You’re not old.”

  “I’m old enough to know what’s best, to know more than you.”

  “It’s not difficult to know more than me.”

  “Travel to London and do your duty, Soloman. Then hurry back to me, and we will spend several lazy months sailing down the Nile together.”

  “You never leave the villa. You’d never accompany me.”

  After the murderous events outside Paris where Valois had lost his kin, he had an unnatural fear of being away from his house. He was convinced an appalling tragedy might occur, so he rarely went anywhere.

  “You will have a riddle to ponder while you’re in England,” Valois said. “Will Valois actually leave the villa? Will Valois actually sail down the Nile with you? You can obsess over me the whole trip.”

  Soloman stared at his friend. He’d never figured out why Valois had taken him under his wing. He’d always suspected it was because he’d been young and distraught and alone—as Valois had been at that same age.

  Valois had been so kind, so supportive and considerate. What had Soloman ever given to him in return?

  He snorted with aggravation. “Fine, I’ll go.”

  On getting his way, Valois didn’t gloat. “Wonderful.”

  “I’ll need a few days to catch my breath, then I’ll look into the arrangements.”

  “I’ve already made them for you,” Valois deviously said.

  Soloman glared. “You couldn’t have been so certain I’d agree.”

  “Mon ami, though you like to pretend otherwise, you are a good man. You realize your obligation to your father and your brother. Your father would want you to complete this final act for him and Caleb.”