Page 47 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
Didn’t want to leave her, did he? Wanted to kiss her shoulder, no,those freckles, didn’t he? Wanted to slip from the bed only to get his notebook before returning to her and drawing her something to make her laugh.
Mocking truths.
He’d always had too much of his father in him, and he’d sworn he’d purged the worst of it. He’d been wrong. The worst of it remained—preoccupation with beautiful things. Obsession.
He ripped his body from hers and dressed quickly, silently. Other than a slight hesitation in her light snoring, she did not seem to notice his absence. Good. He grabbed his satchel with his charcoals and paper, closed the door quietly behind him, and made his way downstairs to the great hall where all meals were served. Reminded him of Arthurian legend, and if the table there were round instead of rectangular, he’d imagine himself a knight ready to do the king’s bidding.
No. He grimaced.Cordelia’sbidding. This was why he’d grouched and grumbled at her, why he’d fixated on the task of removing her from the house. Because he’d known how it would be if he let himself get close. Obsession with the beautiful, desire to save those in need. He’d be hers.
Might already be becoming hers. He’d have to close himself off again, keep his distance.
From a sideboard at the far end of the room, he piled a plate with food and poured himself a too-full cup of coffee, then joined a corner of the long table where Castle, Armquist, and Pentshire already sat.
Pentshire slapped him on the back as he lifted the cup to his lips, making the coffee slosh over the rim.
Theo glared.
Pentshire laughed. “I’m glad you requested an invitation, Lord Theodore. You and your lady have made an interesting addition to the party. I can guess now why you wished to attend.”
Theo froze, his cup halfway to the table. “Oh?” He could not know about Sir George, about Theo’s purpose for being there.
“That school of yours. Lady Cordelia can talk of nothing else.”
“You’re all making donations, I hope.” Relief tumbled through him like a cool winter spring, washing away his fear.
“Mrs. Castle would roast me over a spit if I didn’t,” Mr. Castle said. “I fear she’ll want to have a guiding hand in it. You and the lady wife will accept her meddling, I hope.”
Theo bit a toast point in half then spoke around his chewing. “The lady wife?”
“You’re marrying Lady Cordelia, aren’t you?” Lord Armquist asked. “The footman announced you as married, though we all know that’s as true as anyone else’s marriage here this week.”
Pentshire barked a laugh that sounded more like a yelp and downed his tea.
Theo swallowed hard. “Why do you think I’ll marry her in truth?”
“Because she’s the one championing your school.” Armquist stabbed a bit of bacon with a fork. “She makes it sound as much hers as yours. I figured the two of you would run it together, and it wouldn’t work if she remained your mistress.”
Theo raised a hand. “Well—”
“And she’s a lady, despite the gossip surrounding her circumstances.” Pentshire snapped his own fork to the table. “Youcanmarry her.”
“I suppose,” Theo said, “But—”
“Besides,” Mr. Castle added, “she’s lovely. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Of course she’s—”
“If I could marry Meredith”—bacon sputtered out from between the baron’s teeth—“I would in a heartbeat. But I needed the wife’s money. You know how it is.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?” Mr. Castle asked, his eyes narrowed on Theo.
Armquist and Pentshire also tore him to shreds with critical gazes, the earl’s fingers drummed a rhythm on the tabletop while the baron polished a butter knife to a shine on a serviette.
Theo reached for excuses to appease these men with threats in their eyes and found several within easy reach, as if he’d lately chewed on them himself.
“I have little money to start a family. And I cannot count on my family to support me. I’m sure you’ve heard of my father’s financial troubles.”
