Page 169 of Dukes for Dessert

From within the room, Mother’s words cut into Theodosia’s musings. Her ears pricked up. They all knew of Richard’s love and subsequent broken heart for his Miss Roberts who’d gone and chosen a Renshaw. It was not, however, a matter they spoke of.

“She’d choose a vile beast,” her brother Aidan spat, loyal as the rest of the Raynes.

Ah, they would, however, mention Richard’s sadness if it were a means to disparage the Duke of Devlin’s family. As her family proceeded to attack with their words the enemy family, an unwitting frown formed on Theo’s lips. How many years had her family sat about discussing the Renshaw family, reviling them with their words and tones and telling? Since as long as Theo could remember, being a girl of four, seated at her father’s knee, listening to the story of the Theodosia sword, her namesake, and that villainous Captain Ormond who’d commandeered the weapon and so destroyed her ancestor’s right to happiness. All for a handful of coins. Granted, a rumored small fortune from the Renshaw family.

Now, hovering in the doorway, a coward too afraid to announce herself and her plans for the evening, she acknowledged that her family had become a bitter, angry lot. Or had they always been so?

There was a pause in her family’s discourse and Theo took advantage of that silence. She stepped into the doorway. “Hullo.”

“Hullo, Theo,” her mother greeted, glancing up from her needlepoint.

Her father lowered his paper and took in her formal ball gown. “Where are you off to?”

Tonight was the betrothal ball of Miss Roberts to Lord Charles Renshaw. As the most distinguished, anticipated event of the Season, her family had wisely decided some time ago to not present themselves at any other inferior event. Not on the night of the ball for their enemy’s offspring.

“No words from you?” her brother Aidan teased. “This is usually a sign of—”

“I’ll be attending the betrothal ball with Carol and Herbert.” Framed in the doorway, attired in her lavender, satin skirts, Theo forced a smile and met the baffled, befuddled, and annoyed glances of the Rayne family. Silence met her pronouncement. With a jaunty wave, she turned to leave.

Her brother’s sharp bark of laughter froze her mid-movement. “By God, Theo, you’re not usually humorous.”

She turned around on a frown. “I am humorous.” Though, she supposed if one had to say as much, they weren’t truly as amusing as one hoped. She shook her head. Nor was this a matter of amusement. This was a matter of seeing Damian. With a silent curse she gave her head another shake. Nay, not Damian, the Devil Duke. Well, hell, that wasn’t altogether correct, either. There was the matter of the Theodosia sword. She gave a pleased nod. Yes, that was it.

“Why are you shaking your head in that manner?” Richard, morose and cradling a snifter in his hand, spoke the first words she’d heard since eavesdropping outside the door.

“Er…”

“Nor is that jest at all amusing, Theodosia,” her mother chided. She gave a pointed look in Richard’s direction.

Theo smoothed her palms along her skirts. “It was not my intention to be humorous.” Which of course left the truth of her actions.

Her portly father set aside his newspaper and attended the situation now with a frown. Likely her poor sire recognized years of madcap schemes in his only daughter and knew Theo even now had worked through another of her plans. “Theo?” he spoke in that tone, that no-nonsense tone, that had terrified her as a child.

If she smiled any more, she feared her cheeks would crack. “I’m going to Lord Charles Renshaw’s betrothal ball to Miss Roberts.” Attempting another hasty retreat, she dipped a curtsy and then turned to leave.

“Stop.” Her parents spoke in unison.

Battling down a sigh, Theo wheeled back around. “Yes?” Perhaps nonchalance was the best manner in which to proceed.

Aidan sprung to his feet and his cheeks turned a mottled red. “Yes, you say?” he barked. Over the years, she’d neatly filed her brothers into respective categories: Lucas, her honorable, protector, lost to war brother, and then Richard, the romantic, hopeful gentleman now bitter and broken since he’d suffered his broken heart, and Aidan, the impulsive, passionate, and irrational one, and still the same as he’d been since she’d been a babe.

Heir to the earldom, Richard tossed back the remaining contents of his glass and sat in morose silence.

Their oft-uneasy mother wrung her hands together and looked to her husband with troubled eyes. And in a sign of how serious he took his daughter’s plans for the evening, he picked up his copy of The Times and resumed reading. “Winston,” Mama cried out.

In the tone she used with the skittish cat in the kitchen who’d taken to sneaking to her rooms and hiding under her bed, Theo said with a stoic calm, “It is not how it appears.”

“Oh, and how does it appear?” Aidan thundered.

She winced as his booming voice bounced off the walls. “Well…” Theo allowed her words to trail off, as Damian in all his gruff, masculinity filtered through her thoughts. It was not as though she sought an opportunity to again see the austere duke or again know his kiss and the feel of his hands upon her person.

“Why are you blushing in that way?” Aidan asked. Not allowing her to respond, which was fortunate, as she had no suitable response just then, he looked to their mother. “Why is she blushing?”

Mama continued wringing her hands. “I do not know.”

“Oh, do hush, Aidan,” Theo said with an exaggerated roll to her eyes. “It is not as though I wish to see the Devil.” Guilt tugged at her for referring to Damian that way. The man who could have seen her destroyed and humiliated, who’d instead given Theo her first kiss. She drew in a breath. “I am attempting to retrieve the Theodosia.”

Silence met her pronouncement.

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