Page 111 of Lords, Ladies and Love

And he damn well loathed the place.

Ignoring the road that led toward the house, Theo followed a barely-there path that cut through the oak trees surrounding the house. Once upon a time, the track would have been more visible, but it had been many years since he and his siblings had run along it and played hide and seek in the woods. It would still eventually lead him to the house, but it would give him some time.

He smirked to himself. Time. Something of which he never had enough. And, yet, now that he had to stay here, he would have far too much of it. Yes, it would allow him to manage estate business and take a good look at their finances. With this promised inheritance—so long as they received it—he would be able clear some of the debt hanging over the estate and take another look at their investments. With any luck, before the estate passed on to his younger brother Seth, his inheritance would be entirely safe.

He should go directly to the house, really. It would be better to get this over and done with. He had not set foot in the rooms in that house since the death of Julia. Though he tried to think as little as possible of that woman, there was no escaping the legacy she left behind. Once he stepped foot in Eastbrook Manor, there would be no escaping her at all. Her touches would still be upon the house, and memories of their early courtship lingered. It was much easier to escape it in London.

Theo took the time to enjoy the sunlight on his face, feeling as though he was taking his last breaths as a free man. It glinted through the canopy of the trees, touching his skin before vanishing again. He allowed himself a smile as he recalled running through these woods with his sisters and brother. There were certainly times when he wished he could go back to that time—a time when he had little idea what the responsibilities of the marquis would be. A time before Julia.

He emerged out of the woods to come upon the slightly more formal gardens. There were planted gardens to the right of the house, and though this area looked wilder, he knew that this part of the garden had been very carefully planned by the famous Capability Brown.

A folly sat upon the mount up ahead whilst the lawns curved down toward the house. A path weaved its way toward a long pond. The fountain was not running today, but when it did, it reached heights that almost no other fountain in the country could. His father had spared no expense on the gardens, but it was not something Theo could ever hope to improve upon. They were lucky he had not been forced to sell off any land or antiquities yet, but it was only because of his time and dedication to ensuring every investment they made performed to its fullest.

Sunlight glinted off the pond, obscuring his vision of the house slightly for a moment. For a moment, he thought they had swans living on the water, but when he put a hand to his face and squinted, he realized it was no swan, but a woman in white. She emerged from the water, oblivious to his approaching presence. If this were how things were run while he was away, he should be grateful to his grandfather for sending him back. Apparently, the servants were using the pond as a bath.

The woman turned and froze, he was not close enough to see whether the color had drained from her face, but she certainly seemed shocked to be caught. She remained frozen in place, both hands clasped to her cheeks. He regretted that he had not pretended he had not seen her.

Especially when he realized who she was.

Most especially when he noticed that the white was a slip of fabric that was now curved and wet, molding to a slightly rounded belly and breasts that would make even the most pious of men distracted.

Miss Lucy Jameson remained frozen. She had still yet to remove her hands from her face. There was indeed no color in her cheeks, and her lips were parted. With the water darkening her red hair, he had almost not recognized her. Of course, it had been over five years since he had last seen his ward. She would be nineteen now—an adult. When he had last stepped foot in this place, she had been a mere child.

The years had been kind to her. Too kind. With water trickling down a petite nose that was scattered with freckles, and wide eyes framed with thick dark lashes, she looked as though she belonged in a painting that should be hung on one of the walls in the house.

This was no child anymore.

And this was most inappropriate.

“I did not think you were arriving until tomorrow,” she said breathlessly.

Theo had to force his gaze not to drop to the enticing picture below her neckline. “I finished my business early. There seemed no point in delaying.”

“I wish I had known. That is… Well, we would be more ready for you. Not that the house is not ready. Of course, it is always ready for guests. I make sure of that.” She drew a breath. “I always like to have things ready, you see. We have meals planned every day, and the bedrooms are always made up. You’ll see.” She beamed at him, finally dropping her hands from her face. “But of course, I would not be…um…taking a swim had I known you would be arriving.”

He could not help but allow himself a slightly tilted smile. Miss Jameson had always been one for talking, and apparently, the years had not changed that. “Do you always swim in the pond?”

“It is important for one to exercise, do you not think? I am not much of a rider, so I choose to swim.”

“And this is something you do every day?”

Why he wanted to know that, he did not know. Perhaps it was so he could avoid running into her like this again. A little, dangerous voice at the back of his mind told him it was because he hoped to catch her like this again.

He tried to shake away the thoughts. This was a woman under his protection—his ward. He and his wife had taken her into their care when she was only thirteen. He had not much thought about what it would be like to have a ward, but her parents had been close friends with his wife’s family, and it seemed the done thing.

For the most part, Miss Jameson asked for little. He sent money to keep the house running.

Well, he hoped all was well. From his letters from the estate manager, things seemed to be running smoothly. How much he could expect from a nineteen-year-old girl, he did not know, but he trusted his estate manager and housekeeper to guarantee the house ran as it should.

The trouble was, he had half-forgotten she was going to be here. Or, at least, that she would not be more than a child running around, ignoring him. This was no child. He allowed himself a quick glance down, before forcing his gaze immediately back up. The image would haunt him for far too long, he was certain.

If she noticed his attention, she did not reveal it. That wide, guileless smile was far too trusting, far too innocent. She would know that to be caught like this was inappropriate, but he doubted she had any idea the impact she might have on him—on any man. Out here in the country, Miss Jameson was protected and isolated.

That was his fault, he knew that much. He should have brought her to London and had her introduced to society. Buthe had been too busy to even think about such matters, let alone how he was going to fund her debut.

“I was just walking to the house. It has been awhile since I have seen the gardens,” he explained.

She nodded eagerly. “We have been taking care of them well. As you can see, everything is very much as it was before you left.”

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