by Cheryl Holt
“Yes, my fiancé,” she blithely said. “We’re having a Christmas wedding.”
“Congratulations,” Mr. Grey mumbled, and he glowered at Bernard, his gaze intense and excruciating.
She peered at Bernard. “Act Two is about to start. Shall we return to our seats?”
“Of course, darling.” Bernard played his part perfectly.
He took her arm and escorted her down the hall and around the corner. Once they were a distance away, she collapsed against the wall.
“My goodness, Theo,” he commiserated, “are you all right?”
“Yes. It was just a shock.”
“I can imagine.” He grinned. “All of a sudden, I’ve been promoted to fiancé.”
“I’m sorry to have lied like that, but they were so smug, and I was so angry. I wanted to bring them down a peg. I wanted Mr. Grey to realize I haven’t missed him a single second.”
“No, you haven’t.”
With the stress of the incident waning, tears dripped down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. “Would you be terribly disappointed if we skipped the remainder of the performance?”
“Not at all, Theo. Let’s get you home.”
“Thank you.”
“Look at it this way, dear. You met him face to face, and you survived it.”
“Yes, I did.”
“It will all be better from now on.”
“She’s an odd bird, isn’t she?”
“Who?”
Soloman was in his hotel suite, leaning on the windowsill and staring out at the night sky. He didn’t glance over at Cassandra, and he pretended he didn’t know to whom she referred.
“That Lady Theo,” Cassandra said. “Our encounter with her at the theater was definitely peculiar. Didn’t you think so?”
“Not particularly.”
“I’d have thought, after our acquaintance in Cairo, she’d have been a tad more civil. And that fiancé of hers! Mon dieu, but he was rude.”
“He didn’t seem to be very impressed with either of us.”
Finally, he spun toward her. She was stretched out on the bed, naked, tempting him, but he wasn’t in the mood to be enticed.
She had no blanket covering her even though the temperature was very cool. The fire had died down, and the wind outside was blustery, with a storm expected to blow in.
He’d forgotten how cold and unpleasant England could be, and he’d spent too much time in the hot desert sun. Every second since he’d stepped off the ship, he’d been freezing. Cassandra might be naked, but he was still fully dressed, with his coat on too.
He went to the fireplace and stirred the embers, then threw on a few logs he’d specifically asked the servants to supply. He didn’t want to burn any coal. He wanted to be reminded of the smell of the logs that were used during the winters at his father’s country house. Those had been good years.
He’d been in London for a week, but Benjamin was away in Scotland on business, and Soloman couldn’t determine if he was glad for the delay or not. It had meant he wasn’t staying with Benjamin, which was probably for the best.
Cassandra would have generated too much gossip, so they were enjoying the anonymity of the hotel where they had adjoining rooms. They could open the middle door with no one being the wiser.
“When are you leaving for France, Cassandra?”
“You know when, Soloman. On Saturday morning. Why must you inquire over and over? You are so distracted. I wish you’d pay attention to me.”
“What if you arrive to find out you’re already divorced?”
“The petty oaf will not have followed through. He is very vain, very controlling. He is threatening simply to lure me home.”
“And when you’ve had enough of his games, then what?”
“Then I shall travel back to Cairo. Or perhaps to some other place where the weather is warm and the men are charming.” She raised a perfectly-plucked brow. “Where will you be, monsieur?”
“I have no idea.”
“You will not return to Cairo?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“But you must keep me apprised of your location. I couldn’t bear to live in a city and learn that you are not there as well.”
He could barely tamp down a snort of disgust. She liked to act as if they shared a potent amour, but in reality she was a trollop who would attach herself to any handsome man. The richer the better, and the higher the title the better. He didn’t have money or a title, so he’d never figured out why she bothered with him.
Initially, he couldn’t deduce why Valois had booked them passage together. The cramped quarters had been a chore, and her presence was starting to annoy him. He couldn’t wait until Saturday so she would leave to be with her husband. Let him put up with her for awhile.
Soloman had been involved with her off and on for ages, with neither of them having the energy for a final split, but he was eager to be shed of her. Thanks to Valois, he now saw it clearly.
He whipped away to gaze out at the dark sky again. Theo was out there somewhere with her fiancé. She’d looked happy with him. She’d looked content, a bit thinner, but content nonetheless.
As to Soloman, he was still suffering enormous regrets. He was ashamed of how he’d treated her, and on his voyage to England, he’d actually convinced himself to seek her out. He’d planned to apologize, to tell her about his conversation with Mrs. Wallace and why he’d left her, but ultimately he’d been too much of a coward.
He deserved her disdain, and he doubted she would comprehend his motives, but he’d been desperate to unburden himself.
I did it all for you, Theo!
He sent the message winging out to the night, wishing there was a magical way to slip it into her mind.
He wondered where she was, where she was staying. He’d considered making inquiries, but he hadn’t. He and Cassandra had been avidly socializing, so he’d thought he might bump into her, that he might have a casual encounter where he could speak with her.
But to his dismay, he’d had that encounter when he’d least expected it. He’d been caught off guard, and she’d been so obviously incensed.
Could he blame her? No, and after all this time, what was the point of confessing his sins? He couldn’t fix or change them. He couldn’t even repent in any significant manner.
As he’d known since he’d sailed out of Alexandria, he needed to complete his business in London, then depart as quickly as possible. There was no reason to tarry until Benjamin returned from Scotland. He would advise the lawyers to have the papers ready. He’d sign them and go.
For of a certainty, he wouldn’t wander through another bout of evening soirees where he might run into Theo. Once had been quite enough. He’d seen her. She hated him. There was nothing else to report.
“Darling,” Cassandra cooed, “I am so cold without you. Please join me.”
“I don’t think I should,” he murmured.
“You are in such a foul mood. What’s bothering you, mon ami? Is it stressful to be in London?”
“Not really.”
Yet it was extremely stressful. No one had insulted him on the street. No one had hissed his name as he walked by. All of it had been easier than he’d supposed, but still he was a mess. Too many memories were stirred of that awful period a decade earlier. With Theo and her contempt tossed onto the pile, he could barely cope.
“Come to bed,” Cassandra urged, patting the mattress. “I’ll make you glad you did.”
He gaped at her, recalling the years they’d wasted in sordid behavior. He could have had Theo, could have picked Theo instead. Was he insane? Maybe.
“You can’t make me glad,” he told her. “You’ve never known how.”
He went to his own room, and he spun the key in the lock so she’d understand she wasn’t welcome to follow him.
“Soloman!” she huffed, but he ignored her and kept on going.
“He’s leaving on Monday.”
“I realize he is.”
“I have not heard that he proposed or you accepted.”
“That’s because it hasn’t happened.”
Theo sat in her father’s library in his town house. He was at home for once, pacing behind the desk, and she was seated in a chair, observing as he raged and fumed.
It was the moment she’d been dreading, the moment she’d figured would arrive without warning, and it finally had.
Mrs. Mountbank was hosting another large party, the residence filled with guests. A footman had tracked Theo down in a packed parlor. She’d been escorted to the library where her father had been impatiently waiting.
She was trying to remain calm, trying to act as if she was in control and could forge her own ending, but she wasn’t sure she could. A female had no power. She especially had no power.
If she defied him, he could retaliate in numerous ways. She didn’t have any money, and even if she had, a single woman couldn’t rent an apartment or live on her own. Edna had asked her to stay, but Lord Wood didn’t want her to so he could refuse to allow it, and Edna would have to revoke her invitation.
Lord Wood had frequently mentioned that he ought to commit Theo to an asylum. A father needed very little evidence of insanity to lock a disobedient daughter away. The rejection of a valid offer of marriage was always deemed to be proof of deranged tendencies.
Knowing what a bully he could be, he might commit her and never agree to her release. A daughter had no recourse to force one, so if Lord Wood left her there forever, how would she bear it?
As horrid scenarios raced through her mind, she wondered if she should stop fighting the inevitable. Her situation was grotesque, and Bernard was giving her a perfect path to flee all the discord. Why not escape it? Why not wed?
Although she would never admit it, she hadn’t recovered from her grand amour with Mr. Grey. Despite how he’d deserted her in Cairo that terrible morning, she’d convinced herself he hadn’t intended to, that he’d chase after her. But while she’d been suffocating in England, watching for him and secretly pining away, he’d been traveling to London with his paramour.
Her father believed she was mad, and perhaps she was. Was there any more blatant indication of it than her stupid, unrelenting infatuation?
Her father whipped around, yanking her out of her miserable reverie.
“What do you mean it hasn’t happened?”
“Bernard hasn’t proposed. We’re friends, Father. We spent the past few weeks sightseeing, and there’s been no discussion of an engagement.”
“Bloody hell,” he cursed. He stormed to the door and hollered at a footman who was dawdling. “Find Mrs. Mountbank. Now. Bring her to me, and don’t come back without her!”
He slammed the door, then returned to the desk. He glared at Theo, making her feel ten years old.
“What is it you’re hoping Mrs. Mountbank can do?” she asked.
“I don’t expect her to do anything. I expect her to locate her brother-in-law and fetch him in here so we can finish this.”
“I don’t wish to wed, Father. How can I be clearer with you?”
“Who gives a rat’s ass about you and your opinion? A daughter doesn’t get to decide these matters. The father decides. Last I checked, I am the father in this relationship, and I have determined it is time for you to have a husband. In fact, I’ve never met a female who needed one more.”
“I don’t want to wed,” she doggedly insisted.
“If you ever again utter such a ridiculous statement, Theo, I swear I will march over and slap you.”
She nearly said, I don’t care, but any smart remark would garner her the blow he’d threatened, and she wouldn’t provoke him to physical violence.
“If you don’t proceed, Theo, what is your plan?” he demanded. “Tell me that if you can.”
“I’d like to go to Oakwood. I don’t understand why you won’t let me.”
“It’s not your home anymore! Why can’t you understand that it isn’t?”
“It’s such a huge property, Father. Who would notice if I was there?”
“My wife and my mother-in-law would notice. It’s unnatural for you to linger there when new women have entered my life. You’re not needed any longer.”
“I never was.”
“Precisely,” he cruelly said. “You’re a daughter. What benefit are you to me?”
“You don’t have to be spiteful, Father. I’ve always known how much you despise me.”
“It’s not that I despise you, Theo. It’s that you supply no advantage to me whatsoever.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
It was the bluntest he’d ever been with her, and she was grievously wounded by his words, but she valiantly hid her reaction. After the meeting was over, she’d sneak away and break down in private.
“When you are a female,” he continued to rant, “and you reach adulthood, you marry, Theo. I’m weary of explaining it to you.”
Theo might have replied, but Mrs. Mountbank rushed in. “What’s wrong, Harold? You’ve dragged me away from my guests.”
“Your brother-in-law hasn’t proposed to Theo.”
“He hasn’t what?”
“He hasn’t proposed, Isobel. The two have them have been strutting around London, stirring rumors wherever they go, and he hasn’t bothered to pop the question.”
“Really, Harold, is it necessary? He’s willing. We’re simply waiting to hear that Theo is willing too.” Mrs. Mountbank spun to Theo, her gaze annoyed and deadly. “You’ve become acquainted with Bernard, Theo. Don’t tell me you don’t like him or that you’re too bloody good for him, because I won’t listen to such nonsense.”
Theo was a baron’s daughter, so in a rational world, she would have been too good for him, but she didn’t mention it.
“I like Bernard,” she said. “He’s been very kind.”
Mrs. Mountbank frowned at Lord Wood. “There? See? What is the problem, Harold? Set the date and be done with it. I’m busy.”
“Get Bernard,” Lord Wood snapped.
Mrs. Mountbank’s exasperation was extreme. “What is the point, Harold?”
“A girl should receive a proposal from the man, Isobel. It’s only fitting.”
“All right, all right,” Mrs. Mountbank grumbled.
She might have left to find him, but the door opened again, and Bernard hurried in as if he was a clairvoyant and had known they were discussing him.
“What’s happening?” he asked Mrs. Mountbank. “There is gossip swirling that Theo is trapped in here and you’re browbeating her.”
“We’re not browbeating her,” Mrs. Mountbank huffed. “Lord Wood is merely a bit irked, because we just learned that you haven’t proposed to Lady Theo.”
A significant look passed between them, one that Theo couldn’t decipher, then Bernard came over to stand behind Theo.
“Have they been harassing you, Theo?” he asked.
“Not too badly,” she lied.
Lord Wood scowled at Bernard and said, “Despite my misgivings, I acceded to Isobel’s plan, and you had permission to wed my daughter. You’d better not tell me you don’t wish to proceed. If that’s your ploy, after enjoying my hospitality for weeks, there will have to be consequences.”
“I haven’t abused your hospitality, Lord Wood,” Bernard smoothly claimed. “Theo and I have been courting.”
“The whole thing should be finished by Christmas,” Lord Wood declared.
“I’m perfectly content with that schedule,” Bernard said.
“I’m delighted that we’re in accord,” Lord Wood told him, “but I am of the belief that every girl deserves a proposal. Let’s have one from you.”
“Father!” Theo felt as if a noose had been put around her neck. “Bernard doesn’t want to marry me.”
“Bernard agreed to have you months ago, sight unseen.” He nodded to Bernard. “Ask her! We haven’t got all night.”
“Father, please,” she tried again. “Don’t make hi
m do this. Don’t make me refuse him.”
“Refuse him!” Lord Wood bellowed. “By God, Theo, I have selected a husband for you”—he slapped his palms on the desktop and leaned toward her—“and he’s consented. You have no home, no place of your own, and I am providing you with a spouse who will rescue you from that paltry situation. He will help you start a new and better life. Now he is going to ask you, you are going to accept, and I will hear no more about it.”
Bernard rounded her chair and knelt in front of it, blocking Lord Wood from her view.
“Don’t listen to him,” Bernard said.
“It’s hard not to.”
“Listen to me instead. We decided to be friends, and we are. Aren’t we friends?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Then why shouldn’t we marry?”
“I don’t love you,” she vehemently stated.
“Love!” her father wailed. “What insane female would think she should be allowed to wed for love? You are not some independent bluestocking. You are not a virgin in a fairytale who is searching for Prince Charming. I am your father, and I have picked for you. Love is irrelevant.”
Bernard smiled at her, looking contrite, looking sorry. “We’ll get on fine, Theo. You know we will.”
“Bernard…”
“We’ve had fun, haven’t we?”
“Yes.”
“And we’ll continue to have fun. Marry me. Say yes, and your father will stop shouting at you. I hate it when he shouts.”
“I hate it too.”
“What choice do you have but me, Theo? If you don’t wed me, what are your options? It doesn’t appear Isobel or Penelope want you here. Your father certainly doesn’t.”
“He never has.”
“So free yourself from all of them. I’ll take you away, and you’ll never have to see any of them ever again. I swear it to you.”
She stared into his kind brown eyes. She glanced over his shoulder to where her father was glowering and Mrs. Mountbank was bristling with irritation at having been pulled away from her guests.
Why stay where she was so despised? Why struggle to win her father’s respect or esteem? She would never manage it. She’d realized long ago that it was impossible.
