“I like you,” she said, wondering if someone could fall in love after two dances, a walk, a luncheon, and another walk. Because at this moment she could very much imagine spending the remainder of her life becoming acquainted with this man.
“Then let them wonder over dinner. We’ll speak with them afterward.”
“But–“
”What are you afraid of?”
The question stopped her protest. Yes, what was she afraid of? That people would mutter about her? She’d been ignored for most of her twenty years. And Geoffrey seemed determined to marry her, which meant that people would be looking at her for a long time to come.
He leaned forward a little. “You’re smiling. It’s very attractive, and it makes me want to kiss you.”
Theodora blinked. Goodness, she was smiling. “You can’t kiss me here.”
“Then I’ll kiss you after dinner. Shall I walk you to your bed chamber?”
“Mm hm. I’m certain no one will talk about that,” she returned, then paused before she turned around. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For...you, I suppose. For understanding.”
“Ah. I understand two things, Theodora. The first one is that I want you for myself. The second is that I mean to have you. The rest is inconsequential.”
If this was indeed a dream, no one was allowed to wake her up. Ever. She even managed to ignore Miss Oswell sending her pitying looks as she turned around and walked at a more dignified pace back to her own bed chamber.
She would wait until after dinner, then. It wouldn’t do any good for her to go and say something to her sister before Belle could make any further comments to their friends about so and so’s jealousy or who the most likely rival for Vashton’s affections might be, anyway. Belle simply wouldn’t believe her if or when she claimed to be the recipient of Geoffrey’s interest.
Sally rapped on her door and pushed it open at her response. “We must get you dressed, Miss Theodora,” the maid exclaimed. “You know Lady Beldath doesn’t want either of her girls arriving downstairs late to dinner.”
“Yes, thank you, Sally.” Theodora sat at her dressing table and for a long moment gazed at her own reflection. Black hair that left to its own devices would hang waveless down to the middle of her back, brows that refused to arch gracefully without the aid of judicious plucking, light green eyes that had likely disapproved of more silly flirting than they’d ever attempted.
At the same time, though, and for the first time, she decided that her eye color was pretty, and that she could have – did have – a pleasant smile. And Sally could do wonders with her hair, even if Theodora rarely asked for anything more elaborate than a prim bun. This was the face Geoffrey saw, and he’d kissed her. Thrice, in the space of two hours. A pleased, excited shiver ran down her spine.
“Here you are,” the maid said, laying the gray and brown silk Theodora had chosen earlier out on the bed.
Theodora frowned at it. Yes, it was a perfectly acceptable, conservative gown fit for the younger sister of a still-eligible female sibling. Pretty, practical, and designed not to attract overmuch attention. Exactly like its owner. “Where’s the crimson and black silk I had made for Christmas?” she asked, glancing at her reflection again. She wasn’t plain, and she didn’t feel like being overlooked. Not tonight. Not if anyone could be expected to believe that the Earl of Vashton had come to Beldath in pursuit of her. Not Belle, not Catherine, not Rachel. Her.
In the mirror she caught sight of Sally sending her an incredulous look. “The red and black? I... It may need to be pressed. I thought you said you would only wear it for your family dinner.”
“Yes, I did.” Theodora sighed. “But I would like to wear it tonight.” The Earl of Vashton was there because of her. And she didn’t want anyone to doubt his taste... or her courage.
“It’s good to see you smiling, Miss Theodora,” the maid commented, digging into the back of the wardrobe. “I know you weren’t terribly pleased with the idea of holding this hunt to tempt a man after Miss Belle.”
Yes, but for once it hadn’t been charming Annabel who’d attracted a man. Sally was shaking out the flared red and black silk and cooing over the delicate black beading the ran from the point of the shoulders all the way to the bottom hem in a narrowing triangle, and the crimson sleeves and skirt that at the time Theodora had thought pretty, and now found surprisingly sensual. Nerves rattled through her again. Oh, dear. She could at least try it on again so she could decide if it needed to be pressed.
She deliberately faced away from the dressing mirror. “I don’t want to look until it’s on,” she said, stepping into the gown and standing still while Sally buttoned it up the back.
Over the past few hours she’d begun to feel transformed, as if she’d suddenly realized that she wasn’t a moth, but a butterfly. When she decided to look at her reflection again, she didn’t want to see that she was the same abrupt, bookish Theodora in an overly elaborate gown.
Once the buttoning was finished, she started to turn around. Before she could do so, Sally stepped up again. “Wait, Miss Theodora. Let me do something with your hair, first.”
Nodding, Theodora sat at the dressing table, still facing away from the mirror. It wasn’t until she heard the silly dinner gong ring downstairs that she realized they’d been fussing with jewelry and hair for an hour. She never spent that long on her toilette.
Finally Sally stepped back. Pressing her hands to her mouth, she nodded. “Now you should look,” she whispered.
This was ridiculous. She’d tried on the gown once before, to be certain it fit, and over the past two or three years she’d attempted every hair style ever invented. None of that explained her abrupt desire to look as pretty as Geoffrey had made her feel today, or the heady anticipation she felt the moment before she turned around to look. In fact, she closed her eyes as she faced forward once more, then slowly opened them again.
Oh. Oh. Theodora knew of course that she was gazing at herself; she certainly recognized the green eyes, the mouth, her shape. But the reflection wore a daringly low-cut red gown with black paneling, and her hair hung loose across her shoulders in soft, curling black waves. Sally had pulled back the sides into a silver clip at the top of her head. A strand of strategically-curled hair hung by her left ear, nicely setting off the simple onyx necklace that glinted at her throat, a match for the teardrop ear bobs. As she gazed at herself, she felt lovely, powerful, and...seductive.
Was this how Belle felt all the time? If so, she could understand why her sister seemed so convinced that she could land the Earl of Vashton. Because at this moment, Theodora could see why he would look at her twice. Of course she hadn’t looked like this either of the two previous times they’d met in London, and she definitely hadn’t felt this way. And it wasn’t even the dress doing it now; it was the idea of Geoffrey Kerick.
The gong rang a second time. If she wasn’t downstairs by the third strike, she would earn herself a thorough dressing-down later. “Thank you so much, Sally,” she said, giving the maid a quick hug, and slipped out of her bed chamber. She squared her shoulders, to herself reciting the lines from Richard III: “Once more, unto the breach!”
Chapter Six
THE SITTING ROOM adjoining the formal dining room featured a plentitude of couches and chairs. People were even sitting in them – or so Geoffrey thought as he entered. He might have been mistaken, because the moment they caught sight of him, everyone seemed to be on his or her feet and lurching in his direction. If he’d been a fragile man, he might have thought he was being attacked.
This was likely how a deer felt when the pack of wolves closed in. Any normal conversation was impossible, and subtlety and wit fled the room in favor of volume and bluster. Because he was the present Earl of Vashton and because he was the future twelfth Marquis of Haithe, he clenched his jaw and nodded politely and tried to interject non-committal words that made it at least sound like he was paying attention.
For the entire set of minutes, though, he barely noted the shy smiles and fluttering lashes. Instead, he searched the edges, the corners of the room, for a black-haired chit who, he very much hoped, was beginning to like him as much as he already liked her.
The sister was there, half shouting about how lucky they all were that he’d been able to attend the party, and that if it did rain tomorrow they would all stay indoors and play charades. Every word, every gesture seemed rehearsed, designed to be pleasant and charming. None of these eligible ladies on their hopeful relatives would ever call him arrogant or fat-headed. If he had expressed any interest in one of them, they would never had accused him of teasing or have questioned whether he’d gone mad.
For God’s sake, Theodora was clearly the most clever lady of this party, or at least the only one who refused to subvert her intellect to appear vapid. When had that become attractive, and who’d dictated that it be so? Certainly not him.
Something stirred like a warm breeze beneath his skin, and he turned around. People seemed determined to stand between him and the doorway, and for a long moment he caught nothing but brief glimpses – grass green eyes, a deep red sleeve, black, curling hair. Hunger, desire, need, thudded through him.
If he needed any additional proof that he was in a pursuit unlike any other he’d ever attempted, that provided it. He’d met charming women by the basketful, and pinch-lipped angry women who detested Society and their places in it. Theodora Meacham didn’t fit into any category he could conjure. She was unique. And she’d touched something in his soul. He felt better, more himself, just knowing she existed. To have her in his life... She made his heart beat faster, made him smile, made him think of home and children and an unexpected life in which, thanks to her, he could be happy.
And then for a moment the crowd parted. Geoffrey’s heart stopped. Everything stopped as he gazed at Theodora. She looked...stunning, smouldering in black and crimson. Thoughts of warm days made way for hot, sweaty nights, images of her spread beneath him, the feel of her bare skin against his.
Belatedly he noticed that the crowd had quieted, and that for once he wasn’t the center of attention. Good. Theodora deserved to have envious looks cast in her direction. Tonight she looked like the spitfire he knew her to be inside.
He started toward her, whatever anyone else might be saying to him fading unnoticed into the background. They could tell her family after dinner, but the moment he reached her, everyone would know. How could they not? His nerves practically vibrated with tension.
Her sister reached her first. “You look so lovely, Theodora,” she said grandly, then took her sister’s arm and whispered something that made Theodora’s face pale.
Geoffrey didn’t know what Annabel might have said, but he did know it was unacceptable. Removing one lingering chit from his sleeve, he strode across the room. “Theodora,” he murmured, reaching out for her hand. Her fingers were clenched, and he uncoiled them as he bent over to kiss her knuckles.
“I shouldn’t have dressed like this,” she muttered, trying to pull her hand free. “I don’t know what the devil I was thinking. If you put a horse in a pretty gown, it’s still a horse, looking ridiculous.”
He tightened his grip. “You are not a horse. You...look the way you make me feel. Don’t run off.”
“I can’t d–“
Turning half around, Geoffrey pinned the sister with a glare. “What did you say to her?”
Annabel drew her shoulders up. “That was between sisters, my lord. Let’s all go in to the dining room, shall we?”
“Don’t yell at her,” Theodora hissed, looking even more miserable. “She said I was overdressed, which I am.”
“You are not overdressed. You look beautiful. If your sister thinks you don’t have a right to look lovely, that’s her own difficulty; not yours. I like that you refuse to be overlooked tonight.”
Theodora’s gaze met his again, and she stopped pulling away. “You’re a very nice man, you know,” she breathed.
“I much prefer that to being called an arrogant, big-headed lout,” he returned with a grin.
One thing was clear; Theodora had convinced herself that no one would believe this match. It wasn’t that she feared her sister’s reaction – not entirely, anyway. She truly thought no one could conceive that someone like him would want someone like her. It was ridiculous, but thank God he’d already managed to convince her of his own interest. The rest was merely a matter of how diplomatic he wanted to be. And considering that she’d already nearly been reduced to tears and they hadn’t even sat down yet to eat, his desire for diplomacy was splintering into nonexistence.
He shifted his grip from her wrist to twine his fingers with hers. “I know there’s the precedent for seating according to rank,” he said aloud, looking over her head to catch her father’s eye, “but I prefer to sit next to Theodora.”
The viscount cleared his throat. “I... I have good cause to believe there would be a riot, Vashton, if I monopolized you by seating you between my daughters.”
“Miss Meacham may sit where she likes. I wish to sit beside Theodora.” He glanced at her, catching the incredulous, dawning amusement in her eyes. “I likely should have said something when I arrived, but I wanted a chance to discuss matters with Theodora, first, to see if she returned my interest. My infatuation. And now I should be speaking privately with you, Beldath, but I’ve never been in love before. I fear I may have circumvented tradition.”
“‘In love,’ my lord?” Lady Beldath squeaked. “With Theodora?”
Ignoring that, he returned his attention to Theo. “Well, this isn’t going at all like I’d planned,” he said dryly, willing her to meet his gaze. “Come with me.”
“My lord!”
Geoffrey glanced over his shoulder at Lord Beldath. “I’ll speak with you shortly.”
Theodora nodded, walking hand in hand with him through the gawping crowd and out to the hallway where he pulled the door closed behind them. Her visit to his bed chamber earlier made more sense now. She believed his interest in her, thank God. Her concern had been that no one else would believe it.
She’d dressed to look compelling when she hadn’t a need in the world to do so, as far as he was concerned. He’d meant to give her a secret with which she could tease her family and friends. She’d trusted him, and had been embarrassed as a result. He vowed right then that that would never happen again.
“Have you changed your mind?” she asked, green eyes avoiding his and a frozen, clearly unfelt smile on her face.
“Is it ridiculous,” he returned, taking her chin in his free hand and tilting her face up, “that a man who’s seen war, who’s had lovers, who’s laughed at friends for writing silly, sentimental poetry about the charms of women they barely knew, is it possible that such a man could fall in love at first sight?”
“You didn’t love me at first sight,” she countered, her expression easing despite her words. “You called me a cold fish.”
And he would likely be paying for that for the rest of his life. He hoped he would be. Slowly Geoffrey leaned down to touch her lips with his. “You made me angry that night. You made me realize that I’d begun listening to all the drivel being fed me by the herd of sycophants and lick-spittles who appeared the moment I became the Earl of Vashton. But I was never angry with you. I was angry with myself, and I took it out on you.”
“That’s un–“
Kissing her again, both to keep her from telling him that his rudeness was understandable and because he wanted to, he shook his head. “It was mean and thoughtless. And no, I did not fall in love with you that night. You caught my attention that night. I don’t think you’ve been out of my thoughts, since.”
“Well. That’s very nice,” she murmured, sliding an arm around his shoulders and lifting up on her toes to kiss him again.
“I asked about you, as well. Your friend Agnes Rawlins lives fairly close to me at Vashton. I called on her so many times that I had to con
fess to her parents what I was about or they would have expected a proposal.”
“Oh, my. Did she know what you were about?”
“She did. Miss Rawlins was quite helpful. She told me about the plays you used to author and stage as a girl, about how you would do anything for your family and friends, about how you’d given up on the idea of romantic love after seeing the way your sister went about finding a husband. By the time your father’s invitation arrived I’d begun debating whether I could simply appear on your doorstep without being dragged off to Bedlam.”
Her sensuous mouth curved in a slow smile. “You make a very good argument, you know. And since we’re being honest, I...wished that you had looked at me that night and said you weren’t interested in Belle. That you wanted me.”
“I do want you,” he whispered. “When I arrived here I hoped – desperately hoped – that I hadn’t ruined everything, and that you would be the image I’d built of you.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “And was I?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “No. You are infinitely more. And so while I previously fell in love with the idea of you, since I’ve arrived at Beldath I’ve fallen for the actual you. I love you, Theo. If you wish it, I’ll spend the next four months calling on you and bringing you posies and taking you for drives, and then I will ask you to marry me.”
Theodora took an unsteady breath. “If I wish it?”
“If you wish it. Or I could do this, and we could see to all those other things after.” With a hard breath of his own he sank down on one knee, taking both her hands in both of his. They shook, though he couldn’t be certain whether he or she was the more unsteady.
“Geoffrey,” she whispered, tears glinting in her grass green eyes.
“Theodora Louisa Meacham, I would be the happiest man in the world if you would be my love, my partner, my companion. Theo, will you marry me?”
For a long moment Theodora looked down at his upturned face. This man, the one she’d daydreamed about before she’d dismissed the notion as folly, was everything she’d ever wanted and had never thought to find. Was one day enough for her to decide the rest of her life? On the other hand, how many days was she supposed to wait?
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