Page 64 of My Own True Duchess
Theo wiggled to her feet, though Jonathan stole a last kiss before she rose. He remained on the sofa, tousled, casually exposed, and luscious.
“The viscount can go to Jericho, for all I care,” he said, passing Theo the handkerchief. “Anselm will negotiate settlements for you, or his duchess will, and he’ll carry out her orders.”
Theo used the handkerchief and passed it back, which should have been awkward, but wasn’t. “I barely know Their Graces.”
Jonathan rose and began doing up his clothing. “That doesn’t signify. Anselm’s a duke. He’ll meddle. If I didn’t prevail upon him to advocate for your interests, then Bellefonte’s countess would intercede on your behalf, or Her Grace of Quimbey would find some marquess or other to bedevil me, but it won’t matter, Theo.”
He gently moved her hands aside and gave her stays a firm upward tug, which was what they’d needed.
“I have my competence,” Theo said, while Jonathan retied the bow of her chemise. “The settlements don’t need to be much.” She hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Hadn’t seen beyond confiding in Jonathan regarding the viscount’s accusations.
“You are to be my duchess,” Jonathan said, stepping close. “You will want for nothing, Theo. If you develop a craving for peaches, they’ll be served to you daily. If you’d like Seraphina to attend a Swiss finishing school, you’ve only to choose which one. If Diana needs a pony, or Williams a pension, then that too can be—”
She laid a finger over his lips. His hair was a tempest, his cravat a mass of wrinkles. He had one shirttail out, and half his buttons were yet unfastened.
A wave of desire threatened to have her undoing the buttons he’d fastened. “Diana needs a step-father who can show her firm guidance and unwavering love. Seraphina needs an older brother who can help her navigate polite society upon her come out. I need a husband to love and esteem greatly. The rest will work itself out.”
A stray thought intruded: She still did not know the source of Jonathan’s wealth, though he’d reassured her he had ample means. For now, that was enough.
They argued as they adjusted each other’s clothing, the bickering another form of intimacy. As Theo finger-combed Jonathan’s hair into order, they agreed that she’d write to Viscount Penweather by express, and Jonathan would have the banns cried at St. George’s.
Within a month, she would be a married woman again, but a happily married woman this time.
“Will I do, Mrs. Haviland?” he asked, fluffing his retied cravat.
“You will do splendidly, Mr. Tresham.” They smiled at each other, a pair of cats who’d swilled the last drop from the cream pot. “Will you see me home?” Though truly, that was a rash idea. To be alone with him in that luxurious, roomy carriage… very rash.
“Alas, not tonight.” He tucked her fichu more securely under her bodice. “The press of business calls. In fact, I’ll make my farewells to my hostess and be on my way, though expect an early call from me tomorrow.”
“I’d like you with me when I tell Diana.”
“Shall I bring a dog?”
“Yes, please, but make no mention of ponies. Diana is nigh incorrigible, and a pony should be exhausted as a source of bribes before you consider purchasing one.”
“No ponies, no puppies. Yet.” He leaned in to kiss Theo’s cheek. “Until tomorrow.”
She clasped her hands behind her back rather than embrace him, because that too had become a rash act.
“Until tomorrow, Mr. Tresham.”
She let him leave first, marveling that they hadn’t thought to lock the door—though what would that have mattered? She was marrying him in a month or so, and engaged couples anticipated their vows from time to time.
She hadn’t with Archie, not that it would have made any difference. Theo took a seat at the card table, for the first time noticing that she’d plighted her troth in a game room. A billiards table took up nearly one-half of the space. A chess set occupied the middle of one small table by the windows. A dartboard was anchored to a slab of pine at the far end of the room.
Archie had spent far too much time in surrounds like these.
Theo had intended to wait a full ten minutes before following Jonathan back to the ballroom, but she rose from the card table and headed straight for the door, not even pausing to listen for voices in the corridor before she quit the room altogether.
* * *
Jonathan took the usual route to the rooming house across the street from The Coventry with an odd emotion weighting his heart. He’d made this walk countless times. The streets themselves were as familiar as the jingle of the hackney harnesses, the trit-trot of the linkboys accompanying chattering groups of the well-dressed from one entertainment to another.
Usually, Jonathan was relieved to have the evening’s social obligations behind him so that he could return to his pride and joy, the enterprise that never failed to please him.
Tonight, he resented having to spend the next hours at the club. Resented having to leave Theo amid the aging colonels and reckless debutantes. Resented not being able to dance the good-night waltz with her.
“I am permitted to prefer the company of my beloved to that of a bunch of idle gamblers.” Theo was his beloved. He desired her, liked her, respected her. She blended common-sense kindness with unwavering propriety and a latent streak of passion.
