Theo’s brow wrinkled. She hadn’t known Haven had lived abroad. “Where was your uncle? Traveling with you?”
Haven gave her a half-smile. “Erasmus? No. He’s a sot. And a bit simple. Spent most of his life in a small village outside of Calais where my grandmother once owned property. He never married. I’d only met him once before I returned home.”
Dear God. Things just kept getting worse when it came to Haven. A drunkard for an uncle and a sickly sister. “He never visited?”
He paused beside her, taking a deep sigh. “They were estranged. My father and uncle. And twins.”
Theo tilted her chin to look at him, unable to stop her eyes from widening at this new bit of information. “Your father had a twin brother?” Surely if Cousin Winnie knew, she would have said so. “No one has ever mentioned him.”
“I doubt anyone knows or remembers. Erasmus always had a nervous constitution which kept him from attending school with my father. He stayed at Greenbriar until my father married. I’m not sure he’s ever been to London.”
“Very unusual.”
Haven just rolled his shoulders, the deep green of his eyes unfathomable. “It is. They were never close, their personalities very different. My father rarely spoke of Erasmus, and he only visited the one time. He’s terrified of the ocean. Ships and such. So, once he left England, the journey back was terrifying for him. And as I said, he and my father didn’t get along.”
“What was the cause of their estrangement, if I can ask? Aren’t twins supposed to be each other’s best friends? Always together?”
“Erasmus and my father both courted my mother, but she chose my father. He was a marquess, after all. Likewise, he wasn’t afraid of his own shadow or spouting off nonsensical things like his brother. My uncle’s heart was broken, I’m told, and he couldn’t bear to be in England a moment longer. He was given the small estate in France, was instructed how to manage things, and was left alone. We never visited. I’m ashamed to admit I forgot all about Erasmus until I received my sister’s letter.”
Very curious. “You lived abroad, then. Anywhere in particular?”
“I wandered for a time.” The low rasp of his voice scratched against her arms. “When I returned, Erasmus greeted me as I came up the drive, weeping with relief at the sight of me. He claimed the fairies told him I was dead.”
“Fairies?”
“He speaks to them. Or they to him. I’m never really sure.” Haven shot her an amused look. “Erasmus had braved the journey back to England, he said, to console my father over my death, though he didn’t return when my mother died, and he’d loved her. I think he probably ran out of money, more likely, and had no other way of getting any. The estate was in poor shape by that time, but Erasmus had nothing to go back to, and he was adamant about not getting on a ship again. I’m glad he was there for Jacinda. He loves her dearly. Nearly as much as his brandy.” Haven cast a sideways glance at her. “Though he will also drink gin, ale, scotch, or sherry.” His face hardened a bit. “My father preferred scotch.”
Theo digested the information, wondering at estranged twins who had both become sots. “You’ve done your uncle quite a kindness, I think.”
“He’s a sad creature. Lost. Harmless.”
“Were they identical twins?” Theo thought that must be difficult for Haven, to have a drunken uncle wandering about who looked like his father, twins or not.
“Yes.” Haven frowned, the small scar on his chin twitching. “But they aren’t alike. The hair is different. The cadence of their voice. Erasmus is nervous, like a frightened rabbit. Incapable of doing anything but shuffling around. Always hunched over. Wanders about drunk, picking violets for Mrs. Henderson, stealing my sister’s books. He reminds me little of my father, aside from the drinking. Of course, I never saw them together, save for the one time when I was a child.”
What a fascinating, if not bizarre, tale. Like the plot of one of the books she so adored. Theo would never have guessed Haven to be so complicated beneath the threadbare coats and well-worn boots.
Drat.
Theo didn’t want him to be interesting. Or fascinating. Or so beautiful in the afternoon light.
His fingers trailed over her wrist before wrapping around it. “Do you wish to know more?” Haven’s thumb rubbed over Theo’s pulse, already beating like a drum. Absently, his fingers caressed her wrist, pausing only briefly in his ministrations at a tiny speckle of paint on her skin.
“No, I think that is quite enough. I’m still considering fleeing England, possibly to Italy. I might yet be able to ruin my sister’s wedding trip with the Frost Giant.”
A small, amused sound left him. “Someone has been reading their Norse mythology. I’ve always thought if I could convince Granby to put on an eye patch, he’d make a decent Odin.”
Theo decided not to tell him it was actually Phaedra who was up on her mythology. Theo’s own interest in the subject was limited to the scenes depicted in paintings.
“Missed a spot.” Haven’s thumb paused to caress the small bit of paint on her wrist.
His words weren’t especially erotic, yet they echoed down between her thighs.
Carefully, he pulled her wrist to his lips, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the wild pulse beating there. “Probably couldn’t see it,” he murmured against her skin. “I shall have to remember to inspect you for paint.”
Theo sucked in a breath, alarmed at how quickly the mood between them had shifted. One moment they were discussing his drunk uncle and unwanted social engagements and the next, his lips were trailing in a bold manner along her wrist.
“That isn’t necessary.” A tremor ran through her at the light touch. “To inspect me.” A flood of sensation rippled over her, bringing to mind thoughts of bare skin and soft whispers. Of Haven pressing all his muscled warmth against her.
