“All the time.” The pools of moss green deepened. “I amuse myself by trying to decipher the riddle of Theodosia Louise Barrington.”
Haven remembered her middle name. “Are you mocking me?”
“Not at all.”
“Can you at least be honest with me for a little while?” Theo wasn’t sure why she’d said it, only that she’d had enough uncertainty. “You are always teasing, and I never know when to take you at your word.”
“Do you not?” The intensity of his gaze warmed down her mid-section. “I will always answer you truthfully, Theodosia. Will you vow to do the same? Share one thing that is true?”
“I do not like mushrooms,” she blurted out. “I find them reminiscent of a garden slug, in both color and composition. My father didn’t like them either, on the same principle.” Theo’s eyes caught his, and another bolt of sensation slid down her spine. “Mama loves them, however, as do Olivia and Phaedra.”
“And Andromeda?”
“Mushrooms seem to be the only thing Romy doesn’t have an opinion on.”
The memory of Papa, sitting at the head of the table, insisting to Theo’s mother that the mushrooms floating about in the gravy next to his piece of roast were wiggling about filled Theo’s mind. And how, he’d said in an imperious tone, could she expect a duke to eat such a thing? Romy had laughed so hard, she’d snorted like a bull. Very unladylike.
Theo smiled at the happy memory, a time she hadn’t appreciated then, but now, when viewed from afar, tugged at her heart.
“My father always made a great show at the dinner table if mushrooms were served. After a while, I suspected my mother made sure to include them on the menu just to see what he would do. He would turn to me and claim our mushrooms were racing across our plates, albeit very slowly.”
The entire table would erupt in laughter. Craven, their butler at Cherry Hill, would have to turn around to hide his own amusement and keep from embarrassing himself. A small wince of pain crossed her chest, and without thinking, she pressed her palm to her heart.
“You miss him.” Haven’s hand stretched atop one muscular thigh reached just slightly in her direction before pulling back.
“Every day.” Theo blinked to keep the moisture gathering behind her eyes at bay. She hadn’t wept when her father died; instead, she’d crawled up to the spare room which served as her studio at Cherry Hill and painted with a violence which had frightened her. No miniatures. Just bold slashes of paint across every available surface, terrible abstract things in macabre colors. She had an entire book of sketches she’d done of her father but had been unable to paint a single miniature or small portrait of him. It simply hurt too much to do so.
“Papa said all his Barrington ladies sparkled like stars in the heavens. He was only a boring planet, not a heavenly body. Not celestial as he claimed we were.”
“Yet you all revolved around him, did you not?”
Theo looked up, surprised at Haven’s observation.
“I suppose we did. We still do, even though he is no longer with us.”
Haven didn’t pressure her for more; instead, he studied her from across the coach, large and slightly nefarious looking, the effect of the new suit he wore ruined by the scuffed boots and mop of russet hair. He regarded her with intense interest, as if Theo were the most fascinating creature he’d ever laid eyes on.
No one had ever looked at her in such a way before.
“Your truth now, Haven.” Theo meant to ask him about his father, the architect of his misfortune, but didn’t, unsure of where such a question might lead.
He leaned forward, the scent of spice filling the air. “I think about kissing you every moment of every day.” He spoke without hesitation, the husky quality of his voice hovering over her limbs before sinking into her chest. “I’ve kissed you a total of four times, and I’m being generous in counting that chaste peck we shared in front of the vicar. I would have kissed you much sounder except I didn’t want Pith to take my head off. If I’m not thinking of the way you taste, or the small sounds you make when I hold you, it is only because I’m asleep. But even then, I dream of you.”
Haven said nothing more, instead relaxing against the seat, clasping his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.
“Haven.” Theo stared at him. She kicked his foot.
A person couldn’t make such an outlandish declaration and then just—
A snore met her ears.
Dammit.
Frustrated beyond belief, the space between her thighs still throbbing slightly from his words, Theo snapped her book back open with a vengeance. Casting a final glare in Haven’s direction, she decided the only gentleman in this coach who deserved her attention was Lord Thurston.
After another futile attempt to progress past the second chapter, Theo gave up. She pulled herself into the corner, peering out the window to enjoy the passing countryside. There was nothing that merited her attention. A herd of cows. A wagon with several barrels lashed inside. All of it blurry. The rocking motion of the coach lulled her almost to sleep only to have her eyes pop open a moment later when the coach came to a stop.
Haven jumped out, taking her firmly by the hand to help her. He didn’t seem the least bothered at having confessed such a deeply arousing truth to her earlier.
