Page 75 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
He turned slowly, dragging his gaze over every detail until—the desk. Last night it had been covered with bits and pieces of paper—blotting paper, his sketches, abandoned drafts. Now only a pen, ink bottle, and single, folded piece of paper lay atop it. He ventured nearer and snapped up the paper. His name slashed black lines and curves on the front, and he unfolded it, read the short missive there.
Theo,
Don’t rage. I know I’ve been impulsive, but I must do something to knock some sense into your head. I’ve taken your drawings. All of them. A silly thing to do considering you can so easily draw more. Don’t do that, by the way. Please? I hope that you’ll take the rest of the house party to actually understand the situation you are so eager to share with the world. Talk with the earl. There are other scandals for you to expose. Do not expose this one if it will do more harm than good.
And especially do not do that for me.
I’m returning to London. Because I fear if I stay with you, I’ll give in as I did last night, I’ll do anything for your embrace. Even now I’m tempted to crawl back into bed with you, to agree with you simply to keep you. I won’t, though. Because Miss Mires deserves truth.
If you need a scandal to sell, draw mine. Earl’s daughter ruins herself in artist’s bed and then is kept by a man old enough to be her father. I’m sure you’ll come up with something clever to depict it.
I love you,
Cordelia
The letter fluttered from Theo’s fingertips to the desk, then he snatched it up and read it again. She’d left. She’d taken his drawings. She… loved him. Legs going numb, he clutched for the chair and sat, crumpling the paper in his fist as a red haze fogged the room and rage rocked through him. Damn her. Straight to hell for interfering. She had no damn right to do so.
He dropped his head into his hands, something like grief following quick on rage’s heels, consuming him. She’d left. She’d left and declared her love for him. Who did that?
Cordelia did that, and he wanted to shake her. But he wanted to hold her. No, he wanted to do both.
He would simply… go after her. She could not have been on the road long. He didn’t need the drawings. As she pointed out, he could draw more. But he needed to find her, to talk some sense into her. Ha. The same thing she’d said about him in her letter. She was trying to make him see sense. To force him to speak openly with Pentshire about his secrets. Didn’t she know secrets didn’t work that way? He had his own he needed to keep well-hidden. Sir George would not be welcome where Lord Theodore was, and what she asked him to do…
She’d left him with few choices. He could speak with Pentshire and discover the truth, and if things were as bad as he expected, he could then publish. But hecouldn’tbecause Pentshire would know. How could he not after having a bloody conversation about the matter?
What if he published without talking to Pentshire? Would she refuse to marry him? Would she run? Would she refuse him entrance to her house? There would be no more house because someone else would buy it. Would she rather live on the streets than let him earn his money as he willed?
He left the room and slammed the door behind him. What would he do? She’d not threatened to leave him entirely, but… she would. Her actions this morning posed an eternal ultimatum. He must choose between the caricature that could launch his career… or her.
The woman who said she loved him and whom he… he…
He took the stairs, dangerously, two at a time, and hit the ground floor at a run. “Where the hell’s Pentshire?” His yell echoed across the old house as he stormed into the great hall. A number of guests already sat there, including the Castles, and they all turned toward him. “Pentshire?”
Mr. Castle gestured at an empty seat next to him. An invitation.
Theo had no time to break his fast. But Castle wasn’t offering information from across the room, so Theo joined him.
Mr. Castle leaned low. “There’s a bit of a storm brewing today.” He sipped his coffee, intent, it seemed to take his time telling the story.
“How so?” Theo demanded.
“Pentshire and his mistress have been up since early morning. Arguing.” He said the last word with his lips at the rim of his cup, one eyebrow arched high.
“Oh?” Fascinating. Should be. Trouble between the lovers. No. Between husband and wife. But that worried him less than—
“Where is Lady Cordelia this morning?” Mrs. Castle asked.
Theo cleared his throat, tapped the table. “Traveling. Back to London. I must follow her soon. Today. Within the hour.” Sooner.
“Ah.” Mr. Castle downed the rest of his coffee. “That’s why you’re in search of Pentshire. To bid him farewell.”
Theo nodded. He wasn’t quite sure why he searched for Pentshire. Some part of him had determined to speak with him, but now… he hesitated.
“Is everything well?” Mrs. Castle asked, peering into a book. “With you and Lady Cordelia.”
No idea. “Yes.”
“Excellent. Excellent. Would hate for two pairs of young lovers to enter the storm at the same time. I do hope your lady is well-equipped to travel alone.”
