Page 158 of Dukes for Dessert
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand whom he spoke of. “Yes,” she seethed. Their age-old hatred of the Renshaws went back well beyond the sale of the Theodosia Gladius, a coveted heirloom their families had fought for. A prized gladius unlike all others for its sheer size and power. An heirloom so special, Theodosia herself had been named for it.
Where the Raynes’ investments had failed and they’d found themselves with depleting coffers, the Renshaws had thrived, flourished, and become the epitome of success and power.
But this crime…stealing Richard’s love…this was beyond the pale. The depth of treachery and ugly that had defied mere wealth.
A sound of frustration escaped Theodosia and she threw her hands up. “There has to be something we can do to help Rich—”
A sharp cry went up. An eerie call of desperation that froze them in their tracks. Shivers raced up Theodosia’s spine and a numbing chill went through her.
Moments later, a wrenching sob filtered down the hallway, springing Theodosia into movement. Heart pumping, she sprinted down the corridor and skidded to a stop outside her father’s office. With fingers that shook, Theodosia tossed the door open, and her stomach lurched.
Oh, God.
Her mother, wrapped in her father’s arms, wept with such force her slender figure shook. “No,” she cried, pounding at her husband’s chest.
And Theodosia knew.
Not because the words had been uttered. But rather, because of the despair that poured from her parents’ trembling frames.
He is dead…
Her legs weakened under her and she dimly registered Aidan capturing her at the waist. “Luke,” she whispered, managing nothing more than that one name. Her elder brother in the King’s Army. Her protector. The honorable man who’d vowed to slay the monsters in her nightmares when she’d been a girl afraid of the shadows. He’d then pledged to defeat Boney and all his forces.
“What is it?” Aidan, his voice usually exuding confidence and strength, broke.
Their parents, faces ravaged with tears of grief looked up, as one. The desolateness in their empty stares raised gooseflesh on Theodosia’s skin.
“It is your brother.”
She’d been expecting it. Knew it. And yet, even so…the air left her on a swift exhale. The weight of despair brought her eyes closed. No.
“He is gone missing.” Their father’s voice emerged threadbare. “From the fields of Talavera.”
Mother fell in a heap on the floor, landing hard on her knees. Face buried in her hands, she dissolved into a keening wail that sent tears spilling down Theodosia’s cheeks.
How wrong she’d been earlier. There proved a far greater despair than bearing witness to Richard’s heartbreak. This gripping, aching agony, no words could heal, that came with this news of Lucas.
And just like that, the threads of a once beautiful fabric, came undone, so all that remained were the frayed and ruined pieces of the Rayne family.
We are cursed.
1
London, England, Spring 1810
“Not at all, honorable, I’ll say. Not at all.”
Lady Theodosia Rayne knew Herbert, the Viscount Fennimore, quite meant those words. He’d uttered them eleven times, and that was only since she’d climbed inside his and his sister’s carriage. Their families were long-standing friends. In fact, the only friends they’d known since the string of scandals had struck.
That blasted sword.
“Sneaking into a man’s ball, uninvited,” he mumbled under his breath. “Not at all honorable.”
Twelve times. “I’ll not overstay my welcome.” She leaned over and patted the top of his hand. Theodosia was not so self-absorbed that she’d not feel some string of guilt for forcing the oft-nervous viscount to assist in this, her latest, but most worthwhile, scheme. But sometimes, there were things far more important that merited those dishonorable acts.
“You already have overstayed your welcome,” he mumbled. “Dishonorable sneaking into a man’s masquerade all to steal another man’s property.”
Thirteen.
