The Marquess Method by Kathleen Ayers

11

Theo stared out her studio window at the Averell residence, watching the stream of carriages roll through the park. Life moved on, oblivious to the one Barrington daughter whose future had been decided largely by those enjoying the day. The Duke of Averell and his family were once again mired in scandal while all of London stood by watching gleefully.

At least Theo’s disgrace had provided everyone a decent amount of entertainment.

The evening at Lady Molsin’s had been a trial for Theo. Polite congratulations had flowed her way, followed by the snap of a fan and small sounds of whispered amusement at her predicament. Cousin Winnie had spent most of the evening red-faced. Lady Molsin, deploying the chilliness of her nephew, had stood with Theo’s mother, daring anyone to voice their opinions aloud. None dared, of course. Eccentric and slightly tarnished though the Barringtons were, Theo’s brother was still a duke.

The only highlight of the evening—a soft flutter pressed across her chest— had been when Haven had dragged her into a dark room and proceeded to kiss her senseless. She’d never believed a woman could be kissed to the point that her mind became a tangled mess of nothing. Until now.

Theo drummed her fingers against her thigh in consternation.

Once Haven had dismissed Theo, forcing her return to Lady Molsin’s drawing room, Theo had had the sense to stop before a mirror decorating one wall. Her eyes had been heavy-lidded. Her lips swollen. A light flush dusted her cheeks. Everyone at Lady Molsin’s little party already assumed the worst about Theo. Their opinions would be cemented by her ‘kissed senseless’ appearance once she returned to the drawing room.

Theo had smiled back at her reflection in that mirror.

She was the daughter of the bloody Duke of Averell. A Barrington. Theo had no intention of allowing a bunch of old biddies, of which Lady Blythe was the worst offender, to make her feel less than who she was.

Let them talk.

She had returned to her mother’s side, held her chin up at a defiant angle, and ignored the whispers about her. She would have avoided her future husband for the remainder of the evening, except Haven had never returned to the party, abandoning her to the wolves, so to speak. Theo had refused to glance in Blythe’s direction again. It was time for her to consider the future.

She brushed the edge of her chin with the tip of her paintbrush.

The feelings Haven inspired in Theo were not welcome. Losing the upper hand at the critical beginning of their marriage would be a disaster. She couldn’t afford to, not until they’d reached some sort of understanding. Yes, Haven might find her appealing. After all, he’d kissed her twice, but—there was no real affection between them.

But might there be?

Theo shook her head, not wishing to consider something more than a marriage of convenience only to be disappointed later. She wasn’t a good judge of a man’s intentions, given her experience with Blythe. She didn’t trust the attraction between her and Haven. Or her own instincts. Far better to set down some rules with Haven to protect her future self. The discussion was long overdue.

She exhaled, watching as her breath fogged the glass of the window. Of course, it was impossible to have such a discussion before the wedding if Haven continued to ignore her. Since Lady Molsin’s ill-fated gathering, Theo’s future husband hadn’t called. Not once. Which only added more fuel to her decision to reach an understanding with him. Society was littered with the deflated hearts of young ladies who’d found themselves in the same situation, mistaking that what their husbands desired most was them and not just their dowry. It would be easy to confuse physical attraction with affection, especially where Haven was concerned. Theo did not mean to be one of those young ladies. When Haven wandered off to his slew of mistresses, Theo promised herself she’d barely notice.

Theo frowned, the brush pausing beneath her nose. How many was a slew exactly?

Giving a sigh of exasperation, she lowered her hand. What difference would it make? Haven could have a slew, or a herd, or an entire flock of courtesans for all she cared. What was important was that Theo kept their marriage from becoming anything other than what it was: an unfortunate accident. Although, she supposed from Haven’s perspective, the incident in Blythe’s study had been fortuitous. He would no longer be impoverished, for one thing.

All because of the miniature.

Theodosia’s Great Folly.

She lived in terror that Haven, desperate for coin before he received her dowry, might have sold the miniature. What if it ended up in the collection of a respected member of Parliament, for instance? During a party at this hallowed personage’s home, Theo would admire her host’s paintings and other objects d’art, only to come across the miniature of her half-naked breasts.

She butted her head against the glass, cringing at the mere thought. What if Freddie, her nephew, should come across the miniature when he was older, recognizing Auntie Theo? How absolutely horrifying.

“Careful, you’ll break the glass.”

The scratchy tenor pricked against her skin as Theo turned to face him. Annoyance filled her, mainly because she’d convinced herself he’d done something terrible with the miniature, but there was something else. A weakening of her knees. A soft flutter inside her chest.

The late afternoon sun set fire to the glints in his hair as Haven moved closer, giving him the sheen of copper. He was dressed in a lovely coat the color of freshly tilled soil and fawn riding breeches. The coat looked new, but the rest of his ensemble had seen better days.

Haven moved gracefully toward her, easily sidestepping the heaps of canvas, rags, paint, and other bits littering the floor of her studio. His agile movements added to the impression of him as a tomcat, as he deftly missed stepping on the small rosewood box which held her paints.

“Christ, what a mess.” There was no real rebuke in his words. The very edges of his mouth were tipped up at the corners, showing the gleam of even, white teeth.

Oh, how I want to paint him.

“How do you ever find anything in this mess given you are half-blind?”

“An excellent reason for you to leave, my lord. I wouldn’t want you to trip,” she shot back. Theo wasn’t, by nature, very organized. The clutter surrounding her was the bane of her maid, Betts, who spent most of her day cleaning up after her. More importantly, Theo had no desire to pick things up just to please Haven.

His smile broadened, sending a burst of warmth in Theo’s direction, eyes lingering over her face where her hated spectacles, in all their metal and glass glory, sat on her nose.

“I realize you aren’t good at subtle hints to leave, my lord. So, allow me to be blunt.” She pointed at the door with her paintbrush. Theo really wasn’t in the mood for Haven’s dubious charm, not after suffering through the evening at Lady Molsin’s and the delightful small items printed about her in the gossip columns since then. She wondered if he’d seen them.

She returned her attention to the park.

This morning’s paper had contained a simply delightful item about Theo and provided all the proof she needed that Lady Molsin’s efforts had been in vain. Among the reports of gowns and balls, there had been a mention of the reckless nature of Theodosia Barrington. A girl who had gotten exactly what she deserved after her brazen pursuit of Lord Blythe. Accompanying this thinly veiled attack on Theo’s character had been a satirical drawing depicting Theo popping out from behind a potted fern to surprise Blythe, only to find herself faced with Haven. Piles of gold coins were falling from beneath Theo’s skirts as Haven salivated.

The artist hadn’t even been very good.

Silly. Frivolous. Reckless. Brazen. All things Theodosia had never thought would ever be said about her. It was humiliating and made Theo wish to stow away on the first ship to America and beg sanctuary from Leo, who was still in New York.

“I’m surprised Pith let you into the house,” she said as he took a spot near the window. “Or showed you up to my studio.” Theo turned to face him. “He doesn’t like you. Nor does my brother. I’m sure we’ll be adding to the list as time goes on.”

The late afternoon sun sifted through the russet waves of Haven’s hair as he came closer. The color was like maple leaves in autumn that had fallen to cover the ground, tickling your ankles when you rushed through them. The urge to paint him became stronger. Her fingers twitched against the brush.

“Your butler is a menace. Phaedra let me in.”

Theo considered her younger sister nothing short of traitorous. Phaedra had formed an attachment to Haven, informing the family over dinner just the other night that he had promised to practice fencing with her once she’d taken proper lessons. Not one to be put off the slightest that the daughter of a duke shouldn’t be fencing, Phaedra had requested that Tony find a fencing instructor for her as soon as possible. And she was giving up the violin. A collective sigh of relief had flooded the table. Phaedra’s playing of the violin tortured the ears. She’d started out well enough, but instead of improvement, her mastery of the instrument had gone in the other direction.

Theo supposed the Barringtons all owed Haven some thanks for his intervention.

“If she runs off to become a pirate, we will all blame you.” Her reply was sharp. She was still thinking of that blasted drawing in the papers. Had Haven seen it? Maybe that was what had finally made him come to see her. Mutual embarrassment.

“You’re incredibly hostile this afternoon,” Haven said quietly. “More so than usual.” He was standing several feet away from her, facing the view of the park, and made no move to come closer. “I should have called sooner.”

“It is of no consequence, my lord. I’m hopeful our marriage will continue in much the same vein. Avoidance. If only you had ignored my miniature that night in Blythe’s study, we could continue to be nothing more than passing acquaintances. Think of how lovely that would have been.”

“We’ve never been just passing acquaintances,” he said. “Not when I kissed you at Granby’s house party. Not in Blythe’s study. Certainly not now.”

“Compromised by a marquess of questionable reputation. Had I known during that stupid house party what my future would be, I might have avoided you altogether. At the very least, when we played bowls, I might have tossed one at your head.”

“Bloodthirsty.” He watched her closely. “I agree on the impoverishment, Theodosia. You behave as if it is some great secret. And my reputation may yet survive marriage to you.”

Theo could feel her nostrils flare. That had never happened to her before. “You would have taken any chance to compromise a girl you came across if her dowry was rich enough. I fell into your lap like a ripe plum.” She pushed the hated spectacles further up her nose, wanting to rip them from her face.

“But not a spoiled one.” The sides of his mouth lifted. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Does my humiliation amuse you?”

“Dramatic and hostile today.”

Theo jerked back, irritated beyond belief. He behaved as if her life were all some great joke. “And you wonder why I prefer Blythe.”

“Actually, I don’t.” His jaw hardened at the mention of Blythe.

Theo traced the line of his torso, her gaze moving over the broad chest to the worn leather of his riding breeches. The corded bands of muscle in his thighs were visible, rippling beneath the surface of the leather, leaving little to the imagination. And Theo’s imagination was already quite vivid in regards to Haven. She took in his boots. Old. Scuffed. Worn. Somehow that only enhanced his appeal.

Her stomach made a soft flip, muddling her insides. Exactly what she wished to avoid.

Focus on your anger, Theo.

“If you are done assessing me—”

“I was not. Assessing you, that is. I’ve seen you more than enough, my lord.”

Haven cocked his head and turned to her, the moss green of his eyes contrasting dramatically with the coat and russet hair. There was a roughness to Haven, a sense of something dark and barely contained, waiting to burst forth. Theo could feel it coiling around her.

“You are put out, Theodosia, because I haven’t called upon you since Lady Molsin’s.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m only dismayed by your arrival today.”

“You don’t like to feel as if you’ve been overlooked. Or ignored.” The rumble of his words ran over Theo, melting into her bones. “I will take better care in the future.”

Theo gripped her brush tighter. Haven, in addition to all his other unpleasant, unwelcome qualities, was far too intuitive. She had felt overlooked most of her life, a dull wren hiding amongst the more vibrant, colorful Barringtons.

“Perish the thought, my lord. Ignore me as often as you like. Ours is not a relationship born of affection but based on other values. Financial gain being the primary one. My not being treated like a leper for the remainder of my life being the other. As it happens, now seems a good time to speak of our future. It is long overdue. We should discuss the rules.”

“Rules?” A brow lifted.

“Yes. I’m sure you’ll agree due to the circumstances of our marriage, it would be best if we keep things somewhat distant—”

“No,” he stated flatly.

“You have no idea what I’m going to say,” she countered. Theo had spent many hours since Lady Molsin’s considering how best to proceed. It made sense for both of them. Haven was merely being difficult.

“I have a general idea of your ridiculous proposal, Theodosia, and my answer is definitely no.” Haven came closer, filling the air around her with spice and leather.

“It isn’t ridiculous.” Theo pushed the spectacles further up her nose. “And I don’t understand why you would object. We aren’t suited at all. We consistently argue—”

“It is because you are so hostile, as I stated earlier.”

“Regardless, I am willing to come to an understanding, my lord. You are a marquess, after all, and will require an heir. And I do adore children,” she assured him. “Therefore, I am willing to do my duty with the agreement that once completed, we will have a more distant—”

“No.”

She blinked at him, surprised again at his quick response. “Why on earth would you object? I’m sure you’ll prefer the company of your mistress.”

“I don’t have a mistress.”

“Yes, but now you’ll be able to afford one.” She ignored the soft wince of her heart thinking of Haven and his slew of mistresses. It renewed her resolve to keep their marriage distant. “And I said I would do my duty. We both know I won’t enjoy it.”

“It?”

She waved her hands about. “The marital bed. Concourse.”

“Concourse?” Haven’s lips twitched. “I think you might mean congress.”

Theo thought of what she’d seen at Elysium during her lone visit there. “Concourse. Congress.” She twirled the brush in the air. “What difference does it make? You know my affections lie elsewhere.”

A low growl of warning came from him. “So you keep saying.”

This was not going as Theo had planned. She’d assumed he would welcome such an understanding and failed to see why he would object. Their entire marriage was bound for disaster. Surely he knew that.

“I shall lie in your bed,” she said with determination, hoping her next words would deter him and force him to see the value of what she proposed, “and contemplate the color of the ceiling. Possibly the design of the canopy above the bed.”

“I don’t have a canopy over my bed,” he snarled.

“Fine. I will think of Blythe, while you,” she waved the brush around trying not to blush at the mere thought of being naked with Haven, “get me with child.”

“What a generous proposal. I want to make sure I understand. You will submit to me, detesting every moment you spend in my bed, to provide me an heir?”

“Yes.” She refused to back down. “I think it a fair trade. You’ll have my dowry, after all. And an heir. I’m willing to do my duty.”

“Hmm.” Haven’s brow wrinkled in consideration.

It appeared she’d convinced him. He looked . . . contemplative.

“All I must do is wave goodbye once your distasteful duty is discharged?” His voice dropped to a deep, silky rumble. “Then you traipse all over London, stumbling into people and flicking paint about? Perhaps create a few more self-portraits?”

“Yes.” Haven made it all sound very unappealing.

His eyes narrowed as he moved swiftly to within inches of her face before jerking abruptly away from her. Muttering to himself, Haven marched angrily in the direction of the door.

Theo held her breath. He was leaving. She could celebrate her victory in peace. Plan her future. At least, she assumed she’d won. Haven appeared to agree. It was difficult to be sure. The conversation had gone so much better when she’d imagined it in her head.

The door shut. The click of the lock met her ears.

Oh, dear.

“Can anyone hear you scream from up here?”

“I—” Good Lord. She’d forgotten about his temper.

“I thought not,” he hissed, circling her the way Theseus often did a mouse before he struck out with one large paw to end its existence.

Theo’s finger ran over the wooden end of her paintbrush. Blunt. Nothing sharp about it. As a weapon, the brush was completely useless. She watched his reflection in the window as he approached her from behind, inhaling sharply as a wall of muscled heat pressed firmly into her back.

“What are you doing?” she stuttered, alarmed at the way her skin began to hum at the contact of his body. Just as it always did.

“Proving a point.” Haven breathed her in, ruffling the hair at the nape of her neck. “Did you know I could find you in the dark, Theodosia? Most young ladies don’t smell of paint and lemons.” It sounded almost like an insult except he was still nuzzling against her ear. “Miss Emerson smells of rosewater.”

“I hope my scent acts as a repellent,” she shot back, not caring to be reminded again he had preferred Miss Emerson.

“You are not so fortunate,” he said, his breath fanning over her cheek. “I find it alluring. More tempting a scent than anything else I could imagine.” A finger trailed along the slope of her neck before pausing at her shoulder where he drew a circle. “Much like your spectacles. All that glass and gold perched on your nose is very enticing.”

Theo’s skin warmed. Stirred. “There is no need to flatter me, my lord,” she said, trying to ignore the large hand which now splayed possessively across her stomach. None of the gentlemen of her acquaintance found spectacles to be the least attractive. Haven was only toying with her. “Our marriage is already assured.”

“As I’ve mentioned before, I do not flatter.” He breathed against the back of her neck, the tip of his tongue alighting along the lobe of her ear, nibbling gently. “I haven’t the patience. I prefer a more direct approach. Honesty.”

Theo’s pulse beat wildly. A soft throb started beneath his hand, flooding down the lower half of her body. “Doesn’t it bother you that I am in love with another man?” She didn’t sound the least believable, not even to her own ears.

“Shall I show you how wrong you are?” The fingers stretched across her mid-section inched down to lay between her thighs.

Theo inhaled sharply at the intimate touch but didn’t pull away.

“What you mistake for love,” he pressed a kiss to her cheek, “is no more than girlish infatuation.”

Her heart bounced violently against her ribcage. Unable to stop herself, Theo twisted her hips back against Haven, hearing him groan at the pressure. This was why their marriage must be kept distant. This terribly wonderful torrent of physical responses which led her breasts to throb and ache, the echo of which she felt between her legs. Blythe inspired none of this. She tried to focus on him, picturing Blythe’s face as he flirted with her and failed miserably. There was only Haven.

He gently turned her chin, nipping seductively at her bottom lip. A lush, sensual kiss fell on Theo’s mouth, a plea to surrender herself to him.

A whimper erupted from her throat. Her mouth moved in tandem with his, lips opening with little protest as his tongue swept between them. Haven’s fingers slid further between her thighs, cupping her mound atop the layers of muslin she wore, pulling her roughly back against the hardness pulsing so deliberately at the curve of her backside.

Theo dropped her head against his chest with a soft moan, unable and unwilling to move away. The throbbing between her thighs intensified, rippling out across her limbs. Her hand moved down to lay on top of his, feeling the strength of his fingers as he caressed her. All her worries of their marriage, of the horrible gossip circulating about her, and, most of all, her fear, ebbed away under such a blatantly erotic onslaught.

His fingers moved deftly over her sex, the layers of her skirts only heightening the sensitivity as his mouth slanted over hers.

Theo wasn’t even sure if she was breathing any longer. Thoughts slowed. Sounds became muted.

“This is why,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth, “you will not find my bed to be a duty. Nor will you be thinking of Blythe or any other man.” He pushed her more fully against the thick hardness pressing into her backside. “Christ,” he rasped against her cheek, “can you not understand I wanted you the instant you spilled ratafia on me? Are you really so blind?”

Theo’s eyes snapped open in surprise to the view of the park before her. “I didn’t realize you saw my ruining your coat as flirtation.” There was much Theo had failed to comprehend about Haven. Their relationship was not to be as simple as she’d first surmised, but more tangled. Today was a perfect example.

“We will not live apart.” His teeth sank gently into the lobe of her ear. “And I intend on sharing a bed with you. Should you feel the need to take a lover, I suggest you dispense with it. I’m far better with swords and a pistol than I am often given credit for. That is my rebuttal to your ridiculous proposal.”

Haven was possessive. Of her. That was more shocking than having him admit he wanted her.

Her fingers bit into her palms, the paintbrush she held nearly snapping in half. She felt half-dazed. Intoxicated. “I don’t like you. At all,” she whispered, knowing it wasn’t true, and he knew it.

“So you’ve said.”

Theo took a shaky breath. This conversation had taken a rather unexpected, carnal turn, one she hadn’t prepared for. “My affections,” she stuttered, the words which had become rote coming out in her confusion.

Haven jerked back, releasing her, temper no longer in check.

“Are you attempting to convince me or yourself, Theodosia? I will tell you the truth. Had I not taken that bloody miniature, you would still be throwing yourself at Blythe in a shameless manner while all of London laughed behind your back. While you, so blinded by his glory and your lack of spectacles, failed to ascertain his disinterest.”

Theo looked down at her feet, hating how she’d spoiled the beauty of the last few moments with him. Knowing that no matter how ugly, his words were true. It was difficult enough to admit to one’s failings without having someone so harshly remind you. The drawing she’d seen in the paper this morning flashed before her.

“Your point is well taken, my lord. I realize what a goose I made of myself. There is no need to berate me further. I’m quite capable of doing that without your help.” She bit her lip. “If I should forget, I can always have my brother remind me. Or Romy, but now that she’s in Italy—” Her words fell short.

A deep breath came from behind her. “Theo.” His voice was horribly tender as Haven reached for her, one arm circling her waist to pull her close once more. “I don’t wish to argue.” His nose slid across her neck. “I see you finished it, the one you painted in the park.” Haven hugged her tightly to his chest.

Theo looked over at the canvas leaning carelessly against the wall, distracted by Haven’s scent and the warmth of his arms. He’d remembered what she’d been painting that day. It was rare to have anyone comment on her paintings or sketches until they were finished, let alone recall what she’d been working on and when.

“You’ll see that I did not forget the geese,” she said.

A delicious rumble sounded against her back. “Is that what those little white puffs are? You will give me credit for the color at the edges of the water. Had I not been there to offer my assistance, it’s doubtful you would have gotten the pond scum correct.”

A smile tugged at her lips though she tried to stop it. “Untrue.”

“There’s a nook at Greenbriar requiring art of that exact size.” Haven pressed a kiss to her temple, a very tender gesture which spoke of intimacy and affection. The action comforted her as Theo was sure he meant it to.

Her heart stretched in Haven’s direction before she cautiously pulled back. Theo didn’t trust herself. Nor him, when it came down to it.

He held her a long while, but they didn’t speak again, both lost in their own thoughts. After a time, with a chaste kiss to her cheek, Haven slipped away from her, his footsteps sounding on the floor.

Once the door shut, Theo turned to stare at it, unmoving, missing the sense of security she’d found unexpectedly in the circle of his arms. Part of her wished him back, the other half willed him to never return.

Still clasping the brush, she once more stroked her chin with the bristles, her agitation rapidly turning into panic. Theo hadn’t been prepared for this rush of affection in his direction. The ache of her body to be close to his. The circumstances she’d found herself in this morning had shifted dramatically. It had been one thing to contemplate a distant marriage of convenience with Haven, quite another to imagine—well, whatever this was.