She nipped at the pad of his thumb, hearing the small, surprised hitch of his breath at her action.
“Yes.”
* * *
Ambrose hadto stop himself from tossing up Theodosia’s skirts and taking her roughly against the wall of Lady Molsin’s parlor. Which was certain to make the gossip surrounding them that much worse. But herarelyhad a waking thought lately thatdidn’tinvolve bedding her. His desire for Theodosia burned as fierce as the sun, blotting out everythingbuther, managing to shadow even his joy at finally taking his pound of flesh from Murphy. Even the thought that she’d probably already given herself to Blythe or possibly someone else didn’t ease his hunger for her.
His thoughts flew to the miniature tucked safely in his pocket.
I would forgive her anything.
Ambrose broke away from her lips, jealousy and the tangle of complicated feelings he had for Theodosia spiraling out like a vine along his chest and limbs. He refused to admit to anything beyond liking her and plain lust.
Theodosia was a desirable means to a desired end.
But it was a lie, and Ambrose knew it. It became more obvious every day.
“Haven?”
“Ambrose,” he said quietly, gently uncurling her fingers from his coat. “My Christian name. I would like you to use it.” He struggled under the weight of his growing attachment to this lovely creature because shemeantsomething to him, and she had from the second he’d seen her.
And then he’d set out to use her. It did not matter that he hadn’t planned what happened at Blythe’s; his heart had been filled with the intent.
“You should return.” He gently pulled her fingers from his coat, afraid if they stayed here a moment longer, he would compromise her again, this time completely. Either that or he would confess everything.
“Yes,” she choked, voice filled with embarrassment at what she likely perceived as his rejection.
It pained Ambrose to have her think such a thing, but still, he let Theodosia slide away from him. He needed to think—impossible with Theodosia so near.
“I’ll join you shortly,” he said, the words dismissive and far colder than he’d intended. He could practically hear the stiffening of her spine as he imagined her chin tilting mulishly in his direction. Theodosia and her sisters all possessed the same fire of defiance, the assertion that no one should dictate to them. Ambrose spared a tiny bit of pity for the Duke of Averell managing a household of such opinionated, forthright women.
“Ambrose.”
His heart thumped hard. Must she say his name...with such promise?
“Go.” Ambrose nudged her in the direction of the door.
He stayed silent until a sliver of light broke through the darkness of the parlor as she opened the door to the hall outside. The rustle of skirts met his ears before the door shut again and Theodosia was gone.
11
Theo stared out her studio window at the Averell residence, watching the stream of carriages roll through the park. Life moved on, oblivious to the one Barrington daughter whose future had been decided largely by those enjoying the day. The Duke of Averell and his family were once again mired in scandal while all of London stood by watching gleefully.
At least Theo’s disgrace had provided everyone a decent amount of entertainment.
The evening at Lady Molsin’s had been a trial for Theo. Polite congratulations had flowed her way, followed by the snap of a fan and small sounds of whispered amusement at her predicament. Cousin Winnie had spent most of the evening red-faced. Lady Molsin, deploying the chilliness of her nephew, had stood with Theo’s mother, daringanyoneto voice their opinions aloud. None dared, of course. Eccentric and slightly tarnished though the Barringtons were, Theo’s brother was still a duke.
The only highlight of the evening—a soft flutter pressed across her chest— had been when Haven had dragged her into a dark room and proceeded to kiss her senseless. She’d never believed a woman could be kissed to the point that her mind became a tangled mess of nothing. Until now.
Theo drummed her fingers against her thigh in consternation.
Once Haven had dismissed Theo, forcing her return to Lady Molsin’s drawing room, Theo had had the sense to stop before a mirror decorating one wall. Her eyes had been heavy-lidded. Her lips swollen. A light flush dusted her cheeks. Everyone at Lady Molsin’s little party already assumed the worst about Theo. Their opinions would be cemented by her ‘kissed senseless’ appearance once she returned to the drawing room.
Theo had smiled back at her reflection in that mirror.
She was the daughter of the bloody Duke of Averell. A Barrington. Theo hadnointention of allowing a bunch of old biddies, of which Lady Blythe was the worst offender, to make her feel less than who she was.
Let them talk.
