“I apologize for giving credibility to gossip,” Theo quickly said, hating that she flushed.
“Well, it is not yet announced, but there is an attachment,” the duchess interjected, her gaze sharp between them.
A heavy sensation entered Theo’s belly. Of course, he would marry Lady Edith; they were imminently suitable. Theo felt silly to even feel the ache in her throat. What she had with him was a dalliance. A very wonderful and wanton one, but the duke would not consider her a suitable wife. He had all the consequence of a ducal title and the holdings; she had been the daughter of a country squire who had married up. A man like the duke would only ever marry a lady with the best pedigree that society demanded. And a woman of lady Edith’s beauty and accomplishments would be a grand societal match.
“There is no attachment,” the duke said drily.
Theo made a noncommittal sound, doing her very best not to appear unconcerned.
“I urge you to join us for dinner, Lady Winfern,” the duchess said with a tight smile, clearly annoyed with her son’s stance. “I am very curious as to how you are here. I admit I gave no credit to the rumors my son left a ballroom with you a couple weeks ago.”
“Lady Winfern is my guest, mother; that is all that is needed,” Sebastian said with icy civility.
All traces of the warm, sensual lover had gone, and in his place, only the duke stood. Theo was uncertain what to make of this transformation. The duchess pulled herself together, forcing a smile to her lips. It was evident he had displeased her with his remarks, but Sebastian displayed an unaffected bearing.
They entered, and Lady Edith glanced up from where she sat before the pianoforte. Her eyes widened with surprise to see Theo, and she shared a quick frown with the marchioness. Another lady sat close to the window, fanning herself though the room was not overly warm, turning an amiable enquiring gaze upon Theo. Perhaps in her early thirties, the lady was quite beautiful, even if a little haughty in her countenance.
Lady Edith was the picture of perfection in a light lemon dress with a golden ribbon tied around her high waist. Her hair was drawn taut and piled atop her head, setting off her face to its best advantage, and all her smiles were for the duke. Quick introductions, and it was evident everyone was curious about her own presence in the duke’s home. Theo swallowed her groan. This was going to be a terribly long night.
Dinner proved to be an uneventful affair where Theo deftly fielded probing questioning from the marchioness and sly insinuation from Lady Edith. The cousin, Lady Shore, spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find a common interest between Lady Edith and the duke.
The duke enjoyed swimming; Lady Edith had sea-bathed once in Worthing. How charming it was that they both liked the waters. Theo had bit into her lip to prevent her snort. The duchess was rigidly cordial but keenly watched every interaction between her son and Theo. The duke included her in his conversations, and Theo replied pithily and with vague interest. After arching an imperiously questioning brow, he left her to her own musings.
After enduring dinner, they withdrew to the small parlor where Theo was prevailed upon to play music at the pianoforte. She did this gladly, pleased with the distraction from her rioting thoughts. Theo missed a few keys, creating a discordant jangle when the duchess laughingly asked Sebastian to dance with Lady Edith.
“We cannot let such pretty music be in vain,” the duchess cried.
Lady Shore hurriedly added her encouragement and a lovely song to accompany the music.
“I do not believe I’ve seen you dance in years, Sebastian, do indulge your mother.”
The duke received this explanation with obvious skepticism, but he obliged his mother.
The marchioness smiled at them. “Your son did appear at a particular ball last season and only danced with my Edith. Quite a stir they made.”
The marchioness and the duchess looked on the couple dancing beautifully in the parlor as if they were at a ball. After suffering several pointed glares from the duchess, one thing became starkly clear—the duchess appeared deeply charged by Theo’s presence. It was evident to Theo what had happened. The rumors had exploded in London, and knowing where the duke was, the duchess had hurried down with her friend to save her son from Theo’s clutches.
A raw ache bubbled in her throat as she watched them. Though the duke’s expression was carefully composed, their beauty as a couple was undeniable. Lady Edith glowed, and she stared at the duke with undisguised admiration and longing. Theo couldn’t bear looking anymore, so she peered down at the pianoforte keys as she played, ignoring the trembling in her fingers and the ache rising in her heart.
* * *
The next daythe air was warmer and the sun a bit brighter. No rain clouds lingered in the sky this spring morning; however, Theo’s mood was quite blackened. Theo nocked the arrow into the bow with a scowl and aimed it at the straw target several feet away. She drew the bow with all her strength and allowed the arrow to fly with precision. With a thunk, it landed where she aimed.
“That is your arm,” she muttered, thoroughly irritated with the image of the duke and Lady Edith dancing. “How dare you hold her so close to your body!”
Selecting another arrow, she let it loose, satisfied where it landed with a harshthunk. “And that is for kissing her hand when you bid her goodnight.” Selecting another arrow, she went through the motion of nocking it, then let it fly, slamming the target.
“You, violent woman,” a voice rich with soft incredulity said by her temple. “Who is this creature you’ve shot in the arm…the leg…and in the heart?”
Theo made a low sound in her throat when arms wrapped themselves around her from behind. “I was only aiming for your hands and foot.”
“Ah…so the straw is me.”
His low laugh, even one that was mocking, sent a flush of pleasure through her.
“I am hoping it is not so serious since you did not aim at my heart.”
She sniffed and did not answer him, feeling silly for her jealous mood. The man behind her was not hers; he was simply a fleeting pleasure in the life she’d carved for herself.