by Heather Boyd
He sighed. “However, it makes no difference. We’re leaving, my dear.”
She glanced at Templeton. The earl’s eyelids fluttered as if he recognized his son’s voice, but could not react to it more than with that effort. “Are you sure you don’t want to say something to him?”
“No, I do not.” Maitland grasped her elbow firmly and drew her out into the hall. “We have both wasted more time here than he deserves. I am going to take you home to your mother, and our lives will return to the way they were always meant to be. The countess agrees that lingering is quite unnecessary.”
She glanced back at the man in the bed. Lord Templeton was still again, eyes staring across the room with no life in them whatsoever. Perhaps she had imagined an improvement. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. We will leave the earl in Mr. Fletcher’s capable hands. A little more electricity in him might do the trick,” he muttered.
Lord Maitland escorted her downstairs without another word. She still believed Lord Maitland might feel better by speaking with his tormenter one last time but she had to admit she was very much out of her depth with him right now. He led her down to where the butler waited with hats and gloves at the ready.
“Thank you, Mr. Falstaff,” she murmured to the servant whom she’d come to know a little during the day. He was a kind man who had worked for the family for decades.
“You’re welcome, Miss Dalton.”
“Send word when his condition changes for the worst,” Maitland asked before leading her out of the house and down to his carriage.
Her employer appeared made of iron; he was utterly rigid, and she wished there was something she could do to improve his mood.
Theodora was utterly drained and feeling very low, and all for the man who’d shown her so much kindness and compassion in her time of need. She felt so very bad for Lord Maitland. Angry on his behalf, too. What a terrible way to discover your lover had thrown you over. How humiliated he must feel. She could not understand why Adele Blakely had not been more devoted to him. Theodora would have been, if given a choice.
“My parents were not a love match,” Lord Maitland said suddenly, shifting awkwardly on the bench at her side. “How could they be?”
“Lady Templeton is an exceptional woman,” she murmured softly. After the initial outburst in the privacy of her bedchamber, the countess had mellowed and shown unexpected strength of character in the face of a terrible situation. Theodora had been quite impressed with the older woman’s composure during her brief reports. “I don’t know any other lady who would have held to such self-possession under the circumstances.”
Lord Maitland’s hand ghosted over hers where it rested on the edge of the carriage bench seat, but he clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward. “I want to scream,” he confessed.
“Don’t,” she urged, concerned but full of understanding for his reaction. Men did not normally express their emotions loudly. It startled her that he was probably holding on to his temper by a mere thread. No wonder he was anxious to escape to his own home. Theodora felt very protective of him. “Not yet. There are too many ears around us now.”
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Thank you for today.”
“It was my pleasure.” She rubbed his back in companionable sympathy. “It was high time I repaid you for all you’ve done for my mother and me. Sitting at the earl’s bedside was the least I could do. You all but held me up off the ground when my father died, if you recall.”
“I stopped you from destroying yourself. You would have run into the fire because you loved your father so much.” He shook his head. “I’ve never had that affection for mine.”
She leaned against his side. “His loss, not yours.”
His eyes glowed, and he reached out to caress her cheek in an entirely inappropriate manner for their current situation of employer and employee. Lord Maitland had turned her down days ago, but there had been several times today when his hand had sought hers discreetly. She held his gaze now and time had slipped away, captured by the speculative look in his eyes. Theodora tried not to read more into his behavior than she should, but she wondered if the loyalty he felt for Adele Blakely had ended with her betrayal.
And if it had, what he would do about it, if anything.
His hand fell away as the carriage stopped before the stairs of Maitland House. He alighted and helped her out. Together they ascended the stairs side by side without touching, stepped into the foyer, and they both sighed with relief.
In their absence, Theodora’s mother had finally come down from her room and rushed to greet them.
“Mama.” Theodora hurried forward and embraced her, eager for the comfort of familiar, loving arms about her. It felt so good to see Mama on her feet at last. “I hope you received my message,” she whispered.
“I did. Thank you.” Mother turned to Maitland. “I am so very sorry that your family has suffered this tragedy.”
“Thank you.” Maitland bowed formally. “If you will excuse me. It has been a difficult day.”
“Of course. If there is anything I can ever do, just ask.” Her mother searched his face but nodded when Maitland made no reply. She smiled nervously. “Well, good night then.”
Lord Maitland took the stairs two at a time.
As soon as he was out of sight, Mama turned on her. “We’ve brought him bad luck.”
“Nonsense.” Theodora hooked her arm through her mother’s and led her to the hall table. She was not going to get into a protracted discussion about curses and fate and all that. Lord Templeton had been fornicating with an actress, his son’s mistress of five years, for heaven’s sake.
After the long day away, the hall table was overflowing with correspondence, but she hadn’t the heart to open anything. She shook her head. She had no wish to read about a new ball or dinner her employer was offered as entertainment. “We had nothing to do with the events of today, or last night, and you know it.”
“Poor man. What are you going to do?”
Theodora looked up in surprise. “Me?”
“He seems very angry. He will need an outlet for that anger. Something other than using his fists would be best. You must talk to him. Calm him.”
Theodora frowned. “He’s not a violent man, Mama. At least, I don’t believe so. He was very gentle when he broke the news to his mother.”
“His mother raised him.”
She remembered his gentleness with Lady Templeton all throughout what had to be the most trying of days. They were close. She was glad he was loved by at least one parent. The other seemed to have viewed him as competition. “Well, I for one am very glad that he does not follow in his father’s footsteps.”
“Maitland will assume a new title when the earl dies, he’ll most likely move to grander lodgings, perhaps even to Newberry House. We should make plans to move out.”
“I…” Theodora bit her lip. “I will not leave Lord Maitland at such a time, even if I could.”
“Why not?”
“I like the work I do for him very much.”
Mother’s gaze became speculative. “What if he should bow to social expectations and replace his unconventional female secretary with his father’s existing staff?”
Theodora had already met Lord Templeton’s secretaries during the day—a pair of dull men who seemed genuinely eager to help her employer with anything he’d asked for. Her introduction as Quinn’s secretary had been a tense moment. The men had frankly stared with barely concealed shock. She had caught one of them, the elder, smirking rudely at her behind Lord Maitland’s back too.
Quinn had not noticed, or perhaps he had and found such behavior normal. It was hard to tell, given how quiet he’d been that day.
Unfortunately, Lord Maitland had appeared comfortable around the two gentlemen and had made plans to meet with them soon. It had been very plain to see the pair were organized, perhaps irreplaceable even for the soon-to-be new earl, at least at first. The ro
sy future she’d envisaged managing Maitland’s simple affairs could very easily move out of her reach because of his elevation, and sooner than she was ready for. She might have to share her employer and defer to the other pair entirely.
She pulled a face. “Those decisions are out of my hands. All I can do is my best work.” She grasped her mother’s cold fingers tightly, trying to convey hope that she did not feel at that moment. “No matter what happens, we will survive, Mama. I have this month’s wages, should the worst come to pass.”
“Yes, you have your wages,” Mama said slowly, her attention drifting to the front windows.
She chafed her mother’s hand. “If Maitland doesn’t want me working for him anymore, perhaps I can find another employer very quickly with his reference. He knows our situation. I cannot imagine he’d be so cruel as to toss us out on the street without cause or provocation.”
“I suspect he wouldn’t.” Her mother forced a smile, the first one she’d shared in days. “Have you eaten?”
“Only a little, at Lady Templeton’s insistence. She sends you her condolences, Mama. She had already heard about our situation before we met, and seemed very keen to know we were comfortable.”
“Lady Templeton’s warm reputation is well known about Town. Quite the opposite of her husband’s.” Mama put her arm around her back and steered her away from the study. “Come. Cook has laid out a cold supper in readiness for Lord Maitland’s return, so you must have something. You appear exhausted.”
“It was a difficult day,” Theodora admitted as she sank into a chair while her mother began to fill a plate for her. “I’ve never known a stranger day, in fact. It must be hard to feel sorry for a man like Lord Templeton, given how he was found.”
Her mother dropped a plate before her and poured tea. “Your message hinted at scandal.”
Theodora nodded. “It could be and if that happens it will not be an easy time for Lady Templeton.”
Her mother leaned closer. “That bad?”
Theodora whispered the details directly in her mother’s ear in the briefest way possible.
“Oh my,” mother said as she drew back. She glanced upward. “What a blow to the boy’s pride.”
Theodora picked at her food. There was nothing boyish about Lord Maitland. Tall, broad-shouldered, and devilishly handsome when he smiled. His mistress had been a fool to jeopardize their connection in favor of the inferior father. She was certain Maitland would be a much more agreeable lover than a man twice his age and girth could be.
She set her fork down, concern for her employer still pressing upon her. He might need a confidant. Someone to bolster his ego after today. He’d already begun to turn to her in private moments. Her mother was right that Lord Maitland was holding in so much. He would need an outlet that came without strings or expectations. Punching things would only see him hurting himself, and she couldn’t bear for that to happen.
Not when there was an easier way that harmed none.
“I think I will retire early.”
“That would be wise.” Her mother caught her hand. “I’m sure the worst is yet to come.”
Theodora hoped that wasn’t true as she kissed her mother’s cheek and then eyed the sideboard. “Do you think cook will mind if I take up a plate to see if Maitland will eat?”
“I would think she would be pleased,” Mama said, nodding. “They’re all very loyal and worried for the family. We’d be smart to do the same.”
Theodora picked out a selection of meats and tarts, foods easily eaten with the fingers, and carried the plate upstairs. There was light shining beneath Maitland’s door, so she tapped softly and waited until he opened it.
Maitland opened the door swiftly, regarded her and then the plate.
“You barely ate today,” she reminded him, noting his bare feet and throat.
He widened the door and, despite his state of undress, gestured her inside his room. “I’ve never had a secretary worry for my appetite before.”
“You’ve never employed a woman in the role before. As a whole, we are fairly observant, no matter the position we fulfill.” Theodora glanced around, noting the bed covers had been rumpled already, a single tumbler half filled with amber spirits rested on the cluttered mantel, and the windows were thrown open to let in the cold. There was no table to place his meal upon. “Where would you like it?”
“On the bed will do.”
Theodora set the plate on the counterpane and then crossed to the windows, intending to pull them tightly shut against the blackening sky and chill in the air. There was a bright moon tonight, and the ruins of her old home drew her attention like a magnet. She could still smell the scent of charred wood even from this distance. “It will be a cold night,” she whispered.
She closed the windows and turned to face Maitland before her churning emotions could gather momentum.
“I did not notice.” He stopped at the plate and picked up a sliver of ham to taste, and then continued until the plate was cleaned off. “Thank you. I was hungry after all.”
Theodora moved toward him, her skin prickling with awareness. She was not the only one in pain anymore, and the night hours could be difficult. Maitland suffered but in a different way than she did. His arms would feel very good about her tonight. If he was agreeable, she might provide the same comfort to him, as well as take his mind from his troubling thoughts.
His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, but he appeared restless, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She reached out to touch his arm to still him. “What can I do?”
“Tell me why you are really here, Theodora.” He met her gaze, his expression weary, defeated and vulnerable. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
Chapter 12
“I want what you want,” Theodora whispered, fingers sliding seductively up Quinn’s arm.
Quinn craved her touch even as he worried at her motives in following him to his bedchamber at this hour. All through the day, when Quinn had felt the weight of his anger bearing down on his shoulders, Theodora’s fleeting touches had quieted his mind and given him renewed strength to endure the humiliation. He did not think she was aware of how much he’d needed her today.
She lay against him, rested her chin on his chest and held his gaze in a way that seemed too intimate for so short an acquaintance. Even as he marveled at her boldness, he craved more from her. “What do you imagine I’d want?”
Her smile was immediate. “I’m here for whatever you need. To talk, or not talk. Whatever it is, just ask, and it is yours.”
“I don’t want to talk.” What appealed to him as Theodora rubbed against him was a vastly improper use of his new secretary. But he could not use her just because he was angry and heartsick. He was wary of beginning an affair under the cloud of tonight’s events, too. He curved his lips in a tight smile. “I don’t want to think.”
“Then don’t. There is a time and place for everything. A time to be proper and a time to set aside everything just to feel.”
He touched her face, unable to help himself. He’d been committed to Adele for five happy years, or so he’d always foolishly imagined them to be. In all those years, he’d never once been tempted to indulge with another woman, whereas Adele had already strayed.
What would it feel like to take another woman to bed? Would he feel guilt or self-loathing in the morning for seeking comfort from a woman who thought she still depended on him for her livelihood? Her mother appeared not to have told Theodora about the gems he kept for them. He wasn’t sure why. “Is that what you did after your Daniel died? Carried on as if you were not broken inside and pleased yourself in private?”
“Yes, but not at first.” She touched his face too, scratching her nails over stubble gown too long. He’d not shaved since the night before, and the ruggedness of his appearance must have appealed, since she continued to stroke his face as if she was fascinated.
Adele could never bear him looking like this. She’d have ordered him home to shav
e before coming back to spend a few brief hours in her bed.
Was it really so wrong if Theodora was an eager participant—nay, enthusiastic seductress—in this affair? He had not invited her to come to his room or encouraged her beyond opening the door.
She smiled, blushing a little. “Daniel was not my husband, but I was expected to mourn him, to wear black and sit quietly in the corner as if my future had ended with his life. It was unfair. Daniel may have died, but that didn’t mean I had to die, too. I had my own dreams to fulfill that remain wanting still. There are desires to explore that he awakened. I was uncertain at first, but if one is cautious, and chooses the right time and partner, such selfishness can be a balm for the soul.”
“Selfishness?”
“Shared selfishness is perhaps a more appropriate description in our case.” She sighed. “No one ever touches me, but it is what I miss about my ill-fated engagement to Daniel. Connection. Comfort. Reassurance I am not alone, even for the length of one short hour to make love.”
Would he only be allowed an hour? Rushing intimacy had never been satisfactory, in his experience. “You’re not alone. You have your mother,” he reminded her as her hands moved over his body. Exploring.
“It is not the same. I miss a man’s passion more than I can bear at times,” she whispered. As her fingers crept toward his ear to tease, Quinn shivered with anticipation. “I would like to touch you,” she said, her lips parting and her breath quickening.
“I believe you already are.” He grasped her shoulder, drawn to reciprocate the attention she’d lavished on him all day. She sounded very lonely and so vulnerable. He knew the feeling, but still did not like to think he’d be taking advantage. He tried one last time to draw back. “Are you sure this is wise?”
“What I want is never wise. It is necessary, though.” Theodora unbuttoned the waistband of his trousers and then unbuttoned his shirtsleeves. “You were together a long time. Years, you said. Time spent together discussing your hopes and dreams. You’re angry at her, and that is understandable, even expected.”
