“If you don’t mind, Mary?” She turned so the girl could undo the line of buttons trailing up her spine. Once she stood in her chemise, Theo sat on the bed as the maid helped take off her small half-boots and stockings.
“I’ve brushed out your dress, my lady.” The girl came forward. “Should I assist you with your bath?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Theo wanted a moment alone, which she now had since Haven hadn’t appeared. Shouldn’t he have at least come up to see her settled? Theo glanced over to a battered valise she hadn’t noticed previously sitting next to hers. At least Haven planned to appear at some point. “Do you know the whereabouts of Lord Haven, Mary?”
“No, my lady. But he’s asked me to bring up a tray.” She bobbed politely.
Very well. Haven would likely join her for dinner.
Theo sighed and tossed off her chemise, watching as it fluttered to the floor. This wasn’t exactly how the evening was supposed to proceed. Shouldn’t he be stalking her about the room, maybe leering at her? Spouting more somewhat lustful declarations about wanting to kiss her? Possibly offering her comfort for what was about to transpire? Wasn’t that what a husband should do? For all Haven knew, Theo was drowning herself in the tub out of despair.
Sinking into the water, Theo closed her eyes. And just when she’d gotten used to the idea of...she and Haven...well,somewhat. That is to say, she expected—
She grabbed the soap and furiously began scrubbing her arm.
Theo freely admitted that she was a terrible judge of a man’s intentions toward her. There was no reason to revisit her pursuit of Blythe, but Haven had stated his desire for her. Bluntly. He’d said as much on at least two occasions. But possibly he might notexclusivelydesire her. She hadn’t really considered that.
Most gentlemen, outside of her father and Tony, had mistresses. And Granby. Theo didn’t think for one second her sister would tolerate a mistress.
Hard enough to imagineRomywanting Granby’s company, let alone any other woman.
Theo shook her head in frustration. The fact remained that many gentlemen took mistresses during their marriage. Especially if the gentleman didn’t love his wife. Which Haven did not. Love her, that is.
Mary, the inn’s maid, for example, could be a mistress. Theo’s brow wrinkled as she scrubbed her shoulder.
Very well.Not Mary.
But Haven could be downstairs right now cozied up to some luscious widow while Theo sat in her bath. Possibly he was whispering tiny bits of desirable truths into her ear as well.
A few minutes later, once Theo had scrubbed her arms raw, a soft knock came at the door. Mary had returned with a tray of roasted chicken, peas, and several slices of warm bread with butter. Thankfully, there was also a bottle of wine. But only one glass.
Theo stared at the tray and that single glass.
The soap dropped into the water. Suddenly her wild imaginings seemed far more possible than they had earlier. She was in a strange inn, on her wedding night, after having been dragged halfway across England—
All right, a possible exaggeration.
—and deserted by her husband for the delights of a widow in the common room. A luscious, golden-haired widow with perfect eyesight.
Her mood was not softened by the warmth of the water, nor the chicken which she proceeded to eat in the bath. Mary, with a sympathetic look, had been kind enough to put the tray within easy reach. The wine, ruby-colored with a mellow taste, helped somewhat, giving a slightly euphoric edge to her mounting anger.
By the time the sound of heavy, male footsteps stopped just outside the door, Theo was in a bloody horrible frame of mind and the bathwater was starting to cool.
The door opened quietly and then shut as leather, spice, and the scent of scotch floated in the air above her head. The wretch had been drinking downstairs while she sat up here eating chicken in the bath by herself.
“Get out,” she said over her shoulder. “Go sleep with your widow. Or take another room. I find I don’t care.”
“Widow? You do realize it’s me, don’t you? Not another gentleman come to stare at you in your bath. I knew the wine was a mistake.” Haven stalked past the tub, loosening his cravat before taking a seat on the bed. He stretched out his legs and proceeded to tug off his boots, tossing them with a thud into the corner.
Theo lifted her glass of wine and tilted it toward the door. “I’m enjoying the wine. Go sleep downstairs. And take your lustful nature with you.” Her feelings were terribly hurt. Which only made her madder.
Haven placed his cravat over the other chair in the room, discarding his coat and waistcoat. “Why would I do such a thing? There’s a perfectly good bed here. Can’t you see it? Where are your spectacles? Are they in your valise? Should I fetch them for you?”
Theo pulled her lips tight, pleasantly annoyed to the very tips of her toes. Her heart skipped. “Of course I can see the bed. I keep telling you my eyesight isn’t nearly as bad as you make it out to be.”
“I know.” A slow, devastating smile crossed his lips. “And there was no widow downstairs to tempt me, though I do find it interesting you assumed a widow. I do find them attractive,” he said in a faraway voice.
Theo tossed a pea at him.
