Page 74 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
“Oh. Of course. Come, I’ll walk you to the stables and keep you company as everything is prepared.
She almost ran, and he huffed at her side by the time they arrived. What if Theo woke and discovered her missing? What if he came looking for her? Of course he’d come looking for her. Why’d she taken his drawings? He could just sketch another after all. But perhaps the theft would prove to him how serious she was.
Pentshire’s grooms, already up and moving about, worked quickly, and soon she settled inside.
“Please, Lady Cordelia,” he said, leaning in through the open door. “Let me get you a basket so you can break your fast.”
“No. Thank you. I’ll stop in a village.” If she must. “I am truly in a hurry.” He nodded, closing the door. She stopped it just before it clicked, pushed it back open. “My lord… may I ask a personal question?”
“I”—his mouth drew into a twisted bow then relaxed—“suppose so.”
“Miss Mires. Do you love her?”
He rested a palm against his heart and laughed. “Mercy, Lady Cordelia, I thought you meant to ask something distressing. Such an easy question to answer.”
“Well, then?”
“Yes.” Said with no hesitation. “Quite horribly. Always have. Since we were children. There’s never been anyone else but her.”
She licked her lips, and sweat beaded on her palms beneath her gloves. “Then… will you marry her?”
He startled, eyes wide then blinking rapidly. “Marry… her… Hm. Yes. Well, yes, things are complicated.”
A confusing answer, that. Had he meant yes, he’d married her or yes, he meant to marry her or… Why could the man not speak plainly? She’d become too used to Theo and his plain speaking. She rather liked it now, especially when confronted with such ambiguity.
He closed the door. A distinct lack of invitation to ask more questions, that. “Have a safe journey, Lady Cordelia! It has been adelightto meet you. And do convince that man of yours to bring you back next year.”
He seemed so very nice, but he’d not answered her question at all to her liking. Bother and blast and Theo’s favoritehell. Had she done the right thing?
The coach lurched, but she threw the door open, stuck her head out, and it stopped just as jerkily.
“Is everything well?” Pentshire asked, running toward her.
“Yes. Yes. But please… I have experienced the sting of gossip, and… and I do not wish Miss Mires to suffer so. Please… if you love her as you say you do, consider how you might make her suffering less when the party ends and the guests return to London.”
His face blanched, and his mouth hovered open, a small slit of darkness through which no words escaped. He blinked but gave a small nod.
She slunk back into the coach and shut the door, and it rumbled forward once more. She pressed her palms to the window as it crossed the bridge and moat. She watched until the shrinking house disappeared entirely. Had he woken yet? Would he find the letter she’d left for him?
She turned from the window and wrapped her hands around the seat edge. She’d arrived opposite him and departed without him, but so much more than that changed. He’d embedded himself in her heart. He would, likely, be angry when he discovered the missing drawings. Would he consider it a betrayal?
The coach carried her farther from him, but she may have already detonated a gunpowder keg over the bridge the last fortnight had built between them. She would not regret it, though. If any chance existed that Pentshire and Miss Mires did not deserve the storm Theo planned for them, Cordelia would do her best to ensure it didn’t happen.
Even if saving their happiness shattered her own.
Twenty
Every muscle ached. Theo woke in the same damn position he’d fallen to sleep in—curved on his side, reaching through empty space for Cordelia. She’d fit herself into his embrace at some point, and he’d finally been able to sleep, but she must have rolled away. He did not dare stretch his angry limbs or seek a new position. He wanted to see her before she woke before he must face the anger in her eyes once more and try to find a way to make her understand. If he stretched, he might wake her and lose that moment. Licking his lips, he opened his eyes.
And bolted upright.
“Cordelia?” He twisted left and right, looking. In vain. No one but him in the room.
His heart raced with worry, and he breathed through it, raked his hands through his hair—another soothing gesture. Not quite working. She was fine. She’d just woken early to eat. Had she woken early to… meddle?
Hell. She could right now be asking Pentshire outright about hiswife.
He slammed his feet to the floor and found his room in a few fast steps. He dressed quickly, barely tying his cravat as he flew for the door. Hand on the knob, he stopped. Something was… odd about the room. Different.
