“Lady Haven?” Rolfe interrupted her musings with a nod to the position of the table. “Here?”
Theo turned her head, taking in the glorious room she’d created. “Perfect.”
Everythingwas perfect, except for the tiny bit of dread which seemed to linger over her. It had formed immediately after Haven’s confrontation with his uncle and refused to leave.
“Should I check to see when Lord Haven is expected?”
Theo nodded to Rolfe, smoothing her skirts. “If you please, Rolfe.”
Haven had gone to the village very early this morning, pausing only to press a kiss on her forehead just as the sun rose. Something about the blasted pigs. He seemed obsessed of late with sows and piglets. He was due back shortly.
Jacinda and Mrs. Henderson had been sent to pick berries and wouldn’t be back for hours.
Betts had dressed Theo in a gown of midnight blue in keeping with the color palette of the drawing room. The neckline was indecent. She wore her hair down, spilling about her shoulders. Spectacles, she left firmly perched on her nose.
The entire room, including herself, was spectacular.
Settling herself on the damask of her new sofa, Theo fluffed her skirts and waited for Haven to arrive. She loved him. If the painting in the drawing room didn’t scream the words loudly enough to him, her seduction of his person would. Rolfe would ensure they were not disturbed.
Her butler, as if on cue, returned to stand before her, a packet of letters clasped in one hand. “Lord Haven approaches.” A tiny smile lingered on his mouth.
Bless Rolfe. He’d had one of the newly hired grooms watching for Haven.
“Thank you, Rolfe. Is there a letter from my mother?” Theo pounded on the cushion to her left. It didn’t look quite as plump as it should. She usually received at least one letter each day; from her mother, Olivia, Maggie, sometimes even Phaedra. Last week, she’d received an exceptionally long missive from Romy detailing her adventures with the Frost Giant in Italy and exclaiming over Theo’s marriage to Haven.
There it was again. The ping in her brain. Italy. Where Haven had been set upon by thieves, and they’d tried to kill him for his purse. A gentleman who lookedimpoverished.
“From the duke.” Rolfe handed her an envelope, bringing her attention back to the moment. “And one for Mr. Stitch from His Grace as well.”
Theo frowned as she took the envelope. Her brother rarely wrote to her. Sometimes there were two or three lines added to the letters from her mother or Maggie, but nothing from Tony. Perhaps he’d written to tell her the Averell coach and footmen should come back to London, as it seemed he’d written to Stitch as well. It made sense. She’d already mentioned to her mother she was happy and planned on staying at Greenbriar.
Rolfe left her to her letter, going in search of Stitch.
Breaking the ducal seal, Theo started to read, expecting him to say he wished his coach back or possibly to share news of her brother Leo.
The letter did concern Leo. In fact, a note from him to her was tucked inside.
The paper crinkled between her fingers, the words blurring before her as she read Leo’s note. A terrible sensation of dread blossomed inside her, finally bursting free. She thought it might be her heart cracking at the betrayal of everything Theo had thought to be true.
He lied to me.
Coldness set in as she placed the letter face down on the sofa, unable to look at it a moment longer.
Clasping her hands, Theo lifted her chin and waited patiently for her husband to arrive.
* * *
Ambrose stoppedas he came around the corner, seeing the Averell coach with the ducal coat of arms idling in front of Greenbriar. He inhaled sharply, nodding at Stitch as the driver came forward with a bow.
“The duke asked me to ready the carriage, my lord,” Stitch explained, face absent of all expression.
“Has the mail arrived today?” Ambrose’s mouth had gone dry. Murphy hadn’t come to fetch his sister, nor Averell. He supposed he should count himself lucky, except Ambrose knew, with a horrible shredding sensation in his chest as he climbed the steps, that it only meant the news had come in the form of a letter.
His butler greeted him with a bow, questions hovering in Rolfe’s eyes, though he was too well-trained to ask. “Lady Haven awaits you in the drawing room, my lord.”
Once again, Ambrose knew that prick Leo Murphy and his pompous brother were going to take everything from Ambrose. And this time, it would be much more excruciating than simply impoverishing the Marquess of Haven.
I should have told her. Made her understand.
