It had been so long since he’d been to a ball, but he was pleased to learn he wasn’t so out of practice in his knowledge and assumptions. The weather was mild, ideal for taking a stroll out of doors even at night. Many were taking advantage.
He crept his way down some wide steps and into the garden. He couldn’t see anyone at this level and his shoulders went down several notches.
He really must learn to handle these types of social gatherings better.
His very means depended on it, now.
To keep the seductive thrall of bitterness at bay, he loped toward the rosebushes. There was little that the scent of a good rose couldn’t cure. Not that he would ever admit to such a fondness. He took a deep sniff of the largest blossom his fingers could find. It wasn’t possible to discern its color in the relative dark, but he would wager crimson. Only a red could look so deep, deep as a sea at night.
“I feel that I must warn you, Sir, that you are not on your own,” said a woman’s voice from somewhere well beneath his eye-level. He drew back from the roses and looked for its source. It was, if he was not mishearing, Theodora.
Seeing no one, he then went on tiptoe to see over the bushes, mindful of the thorns, and discovered her sitting on a bench on the other side of where he stood. She was alone. It seemed that guests who wished to take the air had remained on the terrace itself.
“My apologies, Madam.”
She raised her eyebrows, which were more blonde than red and slightly caught the weak light. “I will not interrupt your pleasure.”
It had been an age since Lee had spoken with a woman of his station, or one he guessed was from around his station. He found himself vexatiously tongue-tied. Then, after a moment, he found his voice. “I should not interrupt your contemplation. You were here first.”
What sounded normal to him seemed to cause her concern. She peered at him. “Are you quite well?”
He had forgotten how rough his voice was to those who did not know him. He did not blame her for asking a man whose head had appeared over a rosebush if he was well.
It still irked him.
But he expected nothing less from a woman he had just heard deliver such forthright words to her mother.
“I am,” he said, “thank you.”
“Perhaps it is all the noise from inside—I find I am always hoarse after a ball.”
“Indeed.”
“Having to raise one’s voice only to deliver such meaningless remarks as to be considered a simpleton,” she added, almost as an afterthought, and almost with sadness.
Lee’s feeling of annoyance ebbed into empathy. “Oh? And whose company have you been keeping that makes you feel so?”
She shook her head. Then, looking up at him, she said, “Will you not come out from behind those roses?”
There was a lot Lee could say to deny the request. That her reputation would be questioned should anyone see them, or that he desired to return inside were the prime candidates for excuses.
He didn’t want to make excuses. It was possibly too early to judge one a kindred spirit, but he felt she was the closest he was going to get to one this evening. Sidestepping the roses, he came to stand next to where she sat. “Surely you have all manner of friends and acquaintances within?” Knowing what he did about the tenor of her recent conversation, he did not wish either to pry or admit that he knew it had occurred.
“So must you, if you are dressed as you are.”
Lee gave her a half-smile. He was charmed that she didn’t choose her words carefully. It reminded him of the sort of salt of the earth folk with whom he was most comfortable. “You would be wrong.” He knew he should introduce himself, but he feared how she would react to knowing who he was. He did not wish to deceive her, but neither did he want to stop talking to her if she was suddenly nervous about addressing the Duke of Welburn.
He had no way to know if she’d heard of his brother. And some were nervous around those above their station.
“I apologize.” Theodora sighed. “I am not very graceful at events such as these, and to answer your question—no, not exactly. My mother keeps too close an eye on me for genuine friendships to be cultivated.” Warily, she glanced past Lee and toward the terrace. “I’m surprised that she has not come tearing out here, worried that my good name will be ruined lest I be seen with a man.”
Though she uttered the words, she did not move.
It was a common enough fear that parents had, but why they thought themselves able to stop the inevitable, Lee had no idea. If the fear was common, so was the circumstance that gave rise to it. Young engaged couples in particular wished for privacy, did they not? Then there were always the reprobates or, at best, the well-meaning rogues. Lee felt that if he ever did have a daughter, he’d endeavor to trust her if she wished to venture outside.
Lee smiled. “I assure you that it is safe with me.”
“What a relief,” Theodora said. If Lee was correct in assuming, there was a tinge of sarcasm to her voice.
“Your tone makes it seem as though you’re not relieved at all.”
*
Teddie tilted her head and pretended to consider what he’d said. “Well, what sort of woman would it make me to admit that?”
As she watched this stranger with a voice that sounded like wind in dry grass, she admitted that he was actually incredibly attractive. She didn’t want to, and it was not as though he had much competition. It was her private opinion that the ton had probably inbred with itself for far too long, for she had not seen any man whom she could imagine herself—she cleared her throat.
“An honest one.”
A small chuckle left her mouth before she could stop it. “Indeed, Sir.”
“Perhaps you would welcome a ruined reputation?”
Welcome was a strong word. All Teddie knew was that if her reputation was actually called into question, it just might mean the end of vapid evenings like this one. For that chance, she might let some man she didn’t know keep her occupied in the garden of one of the most well-known townhouses in London. After all, it didn’t even mean that she’d have to do anything with him. She was a woman. If someone started the bonfire that was bound to result from even the most innocent little remark about Miss Driffield and Sir So-and-So by the roses, she’d be burned in it.
Teddie wouldn’t have minded being scorched at the very least.
“I would not welcome being ruined, but a ruined reputation?” She smiled, more to herself than anything. She wouldn’t expect anyone else to understand, and if she were a stranger listening to a young woman saying such a thing, she might think her shortsighted. “Quite possibly, I would welcome that.”
“Well put.”
It was the friendly flash of teeth in the night that made Teddie want to like this handsome man beyond simply feeling compulsive attraction at his mere appearance. He was tall and muscular, but more in the manner of an ancient sculpture than that of… she thought, trying to think of men who were built like brick houses. A pugilist. His hair was dark and tucked behind his ears.
She already liked the intrigue of commiserating with a stranger—someone who did not seem to be evaluating her as either a candidate for wife, or a social oddity. “And you, Sir Thorn, from what do you flee?” she asked.
There was a small spasm of confusion on his aquiline face, quickly replaced by another smile. “Sir Thorn?”
“Yes. It didn’t seem to befit your mien to call you Sir Rosebud, if I may be so bold as to say,” said Teddie. “But do not change the subject.” She knew the look of someone desperate who was craving a moment to himself. One didn’t have to be acquainted with another to see that, or maybe she saw it in his attitude simply because she craved more solitude of late.
“I am not certain.”
“No?”
“No. I found myself… overwhelmed.”
That was a strange thing for a man to admit. So many of the ones she had met recently were worse than peacocks and puffed out their feathers
about as quickly when provoked.
It was fun to watch, but she didn’t want to do that to Sir Thorn, much as she also did not want to inquire as to his name. She missed the freedom of simply talking to someone new without the loaded expectations heaped upon her by not only her parents, but any nearby spectators.
“In what way?”
Rather than evade the question, he appeared to consider it. “I have had to face many unexpected responsibilities as of late, and find that I have, perhaps, agreed to too many social events too soon.”
“It appears that you are well-prepared for them, though.” Eyeing his coat and waistcoat, as well as his hat, Teddie knew they were very dear. This man, whoever he was, was no person of paltry standing, that much she cared to guess about him.
He nodded briefly. “I am superficially prepared. That is to say, I made sure I would be dressed this well.”
She had to strain to hear him. Even in the quiet garden, his words did not carry over the sound of distant streets and the low murmur of voices from inside the house. “We need not discuss it if it distresses you.” For the first time in an age, Teddie felt sympathy toward an unknown man rather than the urge to antagonize him. He seemed unaccompanied.
“I fear it has been a long time since I’ve even thought about a ball, much less been to one, Miss Rose.”
“Oh?” She tried to make sense of that, then concluded that there could be any number of reasons why a man of the ton might take his leave from the season or society more generally. Ill-health, family commitments—but this man did not look like an old patriarch by anyone’s standards—or…
“Luckily, I have always been adept at dancing,” he said, winking.
Teddie snorted, largely to cover how warm she suddenly felt upon witnessing this jarring little gesture. “Will you not sit? I feel terribly rude.”
“It isn’t rude for a lady to sit.”
But sit, Sir Thorn did. He did not crowd her space and he did not occupy too much of the bench, which was saying something because, as she had already noted to Mother, she was not the coveted, slender size of the fashionable ladies. And neither was he a slight man.
She was about to gather the courage to broach proper introductions when footsteps came from nearby, possibly those of more than one person. They came from very nearby.
Though she’d said she didn’t mind a ruined reputation, the prospect was apparently more intimidating than she’d surmised, for her heart stuttered.
Or perhaps it was the prospect of having to leave Sir Thorn’s side.
She couldn’t be so easily taken in, could she?
Before she could mentally reprimand herself, he blinked and stood almost as fast as he’d taken a seat. “I am certain I just found you in distress, did I not? Nothing at all has happened, has it?”
Another wink and another one of those charming smiles.
Evidently, she could be taken in so easily.
Chapter Four
She knew it didn’t matter why someone might find her alone with him; it would be used against her, either way. She had the bad luck of having been marked by the ton already, but even if she hadn’t, she would not escape the commentary.
“Come on,” she said, rising herself and grabbing his hand.
There were tall hedges just behind them that would obscure even her, and as she quickly estimated his height, even Sir Thorn.
She gave him little choice in the matter and she was stronger than she looked. He was pulled along until they were both obscured from anyone’s sight. Listening, remaining still, she put a finger to her lips to indicate the need for stealth.
Though he seemed somewhat naive in his declaration that he would playact like he had merely found her in distress, he was not without the ability to recognize that she’d done them both a favor. If they were seen, most of the ton’s sense of decorum would dictate that he propose marriage.
Eyes round, he stared at her mutely as they both listened for the newcomers. Unfortunately, she thought, there was a high, brick wall at their backs which trapped them precisely where they were until whoever had ventured in this direction decided to return to the house.
“Have you not seen her?”
“I’ve only seen you, this evening.”
It was a man and a woman—she had posed the question; he had answered. The answer immediately struck Teddie as comical, because there was little doubt that the couple had come to this part of the garden for a clandestine meeting. He’d be throwing away quite a chance if he did not reply carefully. Of that, she had no illusions.
“Well, I don’t see how you could miss her.”
Was this woman trying to have an argument? Teddie could not blame her, if that were so. The majority of men she knew inspired such feelings.
The man heaved a heavy sigh and capitulated to his companion’s tone. “If you refer to her coloring, then yes, I find it quite vulgar.”
“It’s not just her coloring.”
“Dearest, why do we waste the moment?”
“I saw you looking at her.”
With another sigh that belied thinning patience, the man said, “She is rather difficult to miss, with hair like that.”
“Naturally it is her hair which distracts you.”
“Such a bright orange? Yes. It is her hair that distracts me!”
Feeling both mortification and rage that threatened to combust and set the entirety of the shrubbery into flame, Teddie’s eyes dropped from Sir Thorn’s. He would know as well as she did that they spoke about her. There were no other ginger women in the ballroom. Aside from her mother, no one had any shade of hair that was even close to it.
She did not believe that, whatever was said, her hair had most distracted this unknown gentleman.
Quite rightly, neither did his companion.
Teddie jumped when she felt cool, gentle fingers under her chin.
Before she could quite grasp what was occurring, Sir Thorn had pressed his mouth to hers in a soft and—all things considered—comforting kiss, as though to say, Never mind them.
It would have been a more gentlemanly thing to say.
But given the circumstances, to say it would’ve meant sure discovery. Teddie was so rarely mistaken in her inferences about others that she did not think he meant the gesture to be taken in another way besides comforting. She had recently spent so much time in the company of entitled, off-putting men, which bolstered her sense that he was not one.
If Sir Thorn was one of those, she reasoned, while being kissed—a kiss that she was quite enjoying—he would have forced himself upon her while they sat on the bench.
She could not say for how long they were there or, indeed, given anyone her correct birthdate should they have tapped her on the shoulder and required an answer just then. His hands went around her waist as his lips eased hers open, and eventually there was the slightest flicker of their tongues.
It was at that juncture that he pulled his face away from hers, but only just, and said, “They’ve gone.” His voice was evidently not capable of anything above a whisper anyway but, all the same, she imagined that he kept it intentionally low.
He must have had better ears than hers, or she was too inundated by what he’d been doing with his mouth only a moment ago. Blinking, she realized, although he was not insistently pressing them together at the waist, that other parts of his anatomy had—like hers—also responded favorably to the situation.
Rather than thank him, which logically she might have done, she hit him so soundly that his head snapped to the side.
As he brought his hands away from her waist, recoiling in understandable surprise, she took the opportunity to run away as fast as she could manage. It was difficult in her current shoes and she worried that she might ruin her dress, but that would be better than sifting through whatever had just occurred.
*
I might have a black eye after that, thought Lee.
She—Theodora; he didn’t know how he would properly address her�
�had struck him with such force and precision that he felt the blow reverberate down his neck. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d had happen to him, naturally, but it was still a shock. He wasn’t offended primarily because he was too jarred to take offense. Besides, he didn’t know if she was truly affronted, or just startled. Either way, he could not quite blame her for the response.
He didn’t know what to address first: his urge to kiss her, that he did kiss her, the way in which that man had been mentioning her, or the price he himself paid for taking liberties with her person.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive to him. She was. But the motivations for kissing her felt less pointed than attraction, which he had felt and acted upon often enough.
This felt consuming and raw and needful.
He hadn’t liked what he’d seen on her face: high indignation, but dismay to temper it.
Somehow, that made him kiss her. It was extraordinary.
He brought fingers to his face and gingerly felt where she’d landed the flat of her hand. It was just near his right eye.
Splendid.
He decided he’d best give her a head start rather than risk her fury, or worse, the eager eyes of anyone who might notice them coming inside in short succession.
No, he thought. He wasn’t cut out for this sort of hunting. Rather than seduce anyone who might help him, he’d kissed the first person he felt sorry for.
When the Duke of Welburn crept out from behind the shrubs, it was to go back to his cold, barren townhouse and not the busy ballroom from which he’d fled.
*
Teddie hoped she didn’t look too flustered. It was a curse that she blushed so furiously under the slightest amount of pressure, anger, embarrassment, or nerves. On her slight and inexpert assessment, her dress was not torn, so there was something to be thankful for. The price of the thing could have fed a small village for a week.
Duke of Misfortune Page 8
