The Marquess Method by Kathleen Ayers

17

For the first time in her life, Theo wished she knew how to faint properly and ask for smelling salts.

At her first glimpse of Greenbriar, the estate which was to become her home at least for a time, fainting would be merited. Had she not known better, she would have assumed the estate to have been abandoned and left to rot.

Along with Haven’s heart.

The house itself wasn’t overly large, resembling more of a country cottage than a grand estate, at least in comparison to the ducal seat, Cherry Hill. The oriel windows looking down at her and peaked roofs with multiple chimneys told her the house must have been built around the time of Elizabeth I and probably had not been renovated since. The remnants of once-magnificent gardens surrounded Greenbriar, but the beds now lay either barren or full of weeds with only a spot or two of color.

Neglect hung in the air like a thick mist.

Haven had been careful not to mention the state of Greenbriar to her and, now she could see, with good reason. Had Theo known, she might not have agreed to come here. At least the house had good lines.

Theo declined Haven’s hand as she leapt out of the coach, just as she had refused every attempt at conversation since their heated discussion this morning. Theo admitted to herself that most gentlemen might have come to the same conclusions given the miniature and her behavior over Blythe.

But she hadn’t expected Haven to be most gentlemen.

Maybe she was ascribing an excess of emotion to the act. Perhaps being bedded was always magnificent and earthshaking, though if that were the case, she didn’t understand why so many women didn’t look forward to their marital duties. During the silent coach ride to Greenbriar, Theo had mulled over all these possibilities and come up with the same conclusion each time. She was insulted he’d thought her so free with her person, whether his assumptions were justified or not. She wasn’t ready to forgive him. Not today, but possibly later and only if he groveled a bit.

She tried to imagine Haven groveling and couldn’t.

I can always return to London.

Haven came toward her, and she took a step in the opposite direction, enjoying the sharp blaze of irritation in his eyes.

“Not as splendid as Cherry Hill, I suppose,” he said, the words like the rumble of stones in the road. “Don’t judge. You can’t even see it properly, I’m sure.”

Theo didn’t bother to look in his direction. Instead, she pulled her spectacles from the pocket of her skirts and placed them on her nose. “There’s very little improvement even with them on. You failed to mention the extent of the repairs Greenbriar might require. Looks quite decrepit. Might not even be livable. A challenge of epic proportions.”

He shot her a hard look. “You refused to speak to me in the coach. And it isn’t as bad as you make it out to be. I would have told you everything had you asked.”

Theo snorted. “As I would have, had you asked. Like you, I find it far better to make unfounded assumptions.”

A low growl came from him. “Theodosia— ”

“It was much more pleasant not speaking to you.” She turned her head. “I don’t care to engage you further in conversation.” She pushed her spectacles up her nose and started toward the large doors, ignoring the glowering male behind her. He looked as if he wished to strangle her with her bonnet strings.

It would serve Haven right if she simply climbed back in the Averell coach. Fled him and Greenbriar, never to return.

‘I have never wanted anything so much as you, Theodosia Barrington. Never question it. Anything but that. Promise me.’

Those words, whispered against her skin, were the only reason Theo was standing here in the courtyard of Greenbriar instead of running for the coach.

She believed Haven.

Theo wasn’t overly surprised to find no servants bustling out of the house to greet them. She’d hoped for at least a butler in addition to the previously mentioned Mrs. Henderson. But servants required payment for their services, which Haven, until recently, had lacked the ability to provide. She made a mental note that a butler must be hired immediately. Someone who reminded her of Pith.

Greenbriar grew larger at her approach, making Theo wish she’d never put on her bloody spectacles. Better to be blind in this instance. She supposed it would keep her busy, restoring Greenbriar to the best of her abilities. Give her time to sort out what was between her and Haven.

She looked to the coach her brother had lent them along with a driver and two strapping Averell footmen. All were devoutly loyal to the duke. Tony had probably instructed the three men that Theo was to be taken back to London whenever she wished it.

“Do not walk away from me.” Haven’s frustrated snarl came from behind her.

Theo continued in the direction of the front door without another glance in his direction, pausing only to say over her shoulder, “I just did.”

* * *

He should just pickher up and drag her off somewhere. Possibly the barn. Press Theodosia into the hay and pleasure her until she couldn’t form a coherent thought. When he apologized again, possibly she’d listen.

Instead, Ambrose turned back to the coach and instructed the Averell footmen to take their things into the house. The duke had graciously allowed Ambrose to borrow two of the lads in his employ along with a coach and driver until staff could be hired for Greenbriar. Ambrose didn’t mistake his new brother-in-law’s concession as kindness. Averell only wanted to make sure his sister had the means to return should she need it.

The driver, a bulky man named Stitch with an outrageous mustache, was polite to Ambrose, but little else. He suspected Stitch would be reporting back to the duke on a regular basis. Averell, pompous prick that he was, had obviously decided the pointed threat he’d made before Ambrose took Theodosia from London wasn’t sufficient.

‘Your future existence is tied to my sister. Pray, keep that in mind.’

The duke deemed Ambrose unworthy of Theodosia. It was virtually the only thing he and Averell would ever agree on. He had seen the suspicion in the duke’s eyes, so like Theodosia’s, stabbing him with accusation down the length of the dining room table while Ambrose tried to enjoy his meal. The same way Theodosia had looked at Ambrose after he’d blundered so badly with her this morning.

She had been glorious, striding across the room this morning, stark naked and without a shred of modesty. Her breasts were bloody magnificent, every luscious inch of them. He’d been hard-pressed not to take her back to bed, but Ambrose didn’t have a death wish. Anger at him had emanated with every step she took, deliberately flaunting herself before Ambrose as part of his punishment.

He’d been half afraid she’d trip over something and spoil the moment, but she hadn’t.

At Theodosia’s approach, the front door of Greenbriar, covered in chipped paint and squeaking on rusty hinges, opened to reveal Ambrose’s sister.

Jacinda, a shy smile of welcome on her face for Theodosia, hobbled out, her cane sending small puffs of dust up around the patched hem of her skirts.

Mrs. Henderson trailed behind her, apron flapping about her broad hips as she wiped her hands.

No sign of Erasmus the sot, thankfully. Probably out picking half-dead flowers so he could bestow a bouquet on Theodosia when she arrived. She might well take one look at his uncle’s alcohol-soaked form and head right back into the Averell coach.

Ambrose stalked behind Theodosia, hating how, in hearing him, she moved quickly out of the way so that not even her skirts would touch him.

His teeth ground so hard, he thought his jaw would break, but Ambrose said nothing. Sometimes retreat was the better part of valor, especially when it came to Theodosia. The awkward, agonizing coach ride to Greenbriar from the inn advised him to leave her be for now. At least she was wearing her spectacles.

Jacinda was practically dancing at their arrival—or as much as one could dance with a lame leg. A thick braid of deep auburn hair flew back and forth over her shoulder as she came to greet them.

Ambrose stepped forward, pulling his younger sister into a tight embrace, feeling the fragile bones of her shoulder blades beneath his palms. She seemed thinner and much more delicate than she had only a few weeks ago when he’d come to tell her he was to be married. She’d beamed at the news, happy and excited, the relief on her face so profound, Ambrose had nearly wept.

He would do anything to save Jacinda.

None of the circumstances which had befallen her were of her own making. Jacinda hadn’t forced their father to become a sot. Or to gamble away every bit of the Collingwood wealth, including her dowry. Nor was she to blame for the tragic accident which had cost her full use of her leg.

A wave of guilt broke over Ambrose, one which threatened to engulf him at the very sight of Jacinda and Greenbriar. He should have been here. Instead, he’d been roaming the Continent in a fit of rage at his father, drinking excessively, fighting, and bedding lovely women. Many of them widows, as it happened. If Mrs. Henderson hadn’t heard the bone crack as she made her way to the library, or if Erasmus hadn’t been here, there wasn’t any telling how long Jacinda would have lain on the floor. His father had been passed out drunk in a corner, but his uncle, who’d arrived at Greenbriar a few weeks earlier, had been sober enough to summon a physician.

He owed Erasmus for caring for Jacinda as best he could.

“Where is our uncle?” Ambrose whispered into Jacinda’s ear.

“The village tavern. Mr. Owens stopped earlier and asked him to take a pint. I thought it best if he weren’t here when you arrived with your wife,” she quietly replied so Theodosia couldn’t hear.

Owens was the village drunkard, whereas Erasmus was the titled drunkard. The pair were most often found passed out together on the floor of a local tavern. Sometimes his uncle even slept there amongst the spilled ale and sawdust.

“I didn’t give him any coin,” Jacinda said in a tight voice. “I hid what you left me under a loose floorboard in my room. He did try to sell a couple of books. But don’t worry,” she assured him. “They weren’t any of my favorites. Nor yours.”

“Good.” Ambrose nodded. Ambrose’s father had already decimated the collection of tomes, some of which had been the property of the Collingwood family for more than a century, by the time Ambrose had returned to Greenbriar. The remaining books would only fetch a coin or two, but enough for Erasmus to buy a bottle.

Releasing Jacinda from his embrace, Ambrose waved over Mrs. Henderson, anxious for them both to be introduced to Theodosia.

Edmund Collingwood, as impossible as it was to believe, had been directly responsible for Jacinda’s accident. Drunk and stumbling, he’d knocked the ladder out from under her as she’d reached for a book, then passed out. Mrs. Henderson had related to Ambrose the depth of his father’s despair when, upon waking from his stupor, he’d realized what he’d done.

Jacinda even claimed their father had refused to leave her bedside as she’d healed and had stayed relatively sober, vowing never to drink again.

All of it was a lie because at some point during her recovery, Edmund had gone back to London, started drinking again, and signed away the only thing left, the sum set aside for Jacinda’s dowry, so he could dice at Elysium. He died a short time later. Ambrose never told his sister what their father had done, or where. All he’d said was that their fortune and estates were gone, save Greenbriar. Better to remember the loving father who wouldn’t leave her than the weak sot easily manipulated by the owner of Elysium.

Ambrose had to shut his eyes against the absolute fury rising within him, opening them only when he extended an arm in Theodosia’s direction.

She ignored his hand. Not unexpected. She did give Jacinda a brilliant smile.

“Theodosia, this is my sister, Lady Jacinda Collingwood.”

Jacinda bobbed politely, or as best she could with a cane. “Lady Theodosia, I’m so pleased to meet you.” Her eyes took in Theodosia’s obviously expensive traveling dress and matching bonnet, lingering over the gloves and leather half-boots with a small flash of envy.

Jacinda barely remembered what it had been like to have such luxuries before their father had gambled everything away. She’d never been to London or seen the house, long since gone, the Marquess of Haven had once owned. No, his sister had been stuck in the country, first watching their father’s decline and then waiting for Ambrose as he bled what little was left of their estate to support them. When that was gone, Ambrose played cards, lived with Blythe or Granby, and sent every purse he won to Jacinda. He did everything he could, and it still wasn’t enough.

“Lady Jacinda, I assure you I’ve felt the same,” Theodosia replied. “And you must call me Theo. My sisters all do.”

Jacinda might melt into a puddle of joy at his feet. He could feel her trembling with happiness. She’d been so lonely at Greenbriar with only Erasmus and Mrs. Henderson for company. His hand fell to his sister’s head out of habit, gently stroking her hair. The first thing he meant to do was to ensure Jacinda had something new to wear. He couldn’t bear to see her in dresses which should have been tossed in the rag bin years ago.

“Ambrose.” Jacinda wiggled away from him with an embarrassed smile in Theodosia’s direction. “Cease. I am no longer a child.”

“He likes to make assumptions, doesn’t he?” Theodosia raised her eyes to his, daring him to snarl back at her in front of his sister. “But not to worry, Jacinda. I do not.”

Jacinda fairly bloomed under Theodosia’s regard. Ambrose hadn’t seen his sister so happy in years, at least not since before he and his father had quarreled so terribly. Upon his return from the Continent, Ambrose had been told his father was dead and the estate bankrupt, and Jacinda was lying in bed with a shattered leg that would never heal properly. He’d been taken aback by the sight of Erasmus, not because he thought Erasmus was his dead father—the two didn’t even really look alike—but because Ambrose, like everyone else, had forgotten about the existence of Erasmus.

Poor Erasmus.

“Mrs. Henderson, our housekeeper and cook.” Ambrose introduced the woman who had tended to his sister for years. She and her husband both lived at Greenbriar.

Theodosia turned and greeted Mrs. Henderson with more warmth than most ladies of her station would. But the Barringtons were known to treat their servants far better than many of their peers. It was another thing Ambrose liked about his wife, her complete lack of pretension.

“Jacinda, will you show me inside? I’m sure Lord Haven has much to attend to since he’s been gone for some time,” Theodosia said smoothly, dismissing Ambrose without actually speaking to him.

A clever trick.

“Of course.” His sister blushed prettily, thrilled to have Theodosia’s attention.

“I’ll need your assistance.” Theodosia leaned in and took his sister’s arm, careful to match her steps to Jacinda’s. “With Greenbriar, I mean. There’s much to be done.” She turned slightly, glaring at Ambrose. “And I fear Lord Haven won’t be much help.”

Dismissed again. But at least Theodosia had claimed Greenbriar.

It had taken Ambrose the better part of the journey from the inn to admit how poorly he’d handled what had been meant to be a heartfelt apology and how he’d wounded Theodosia. His temper had flared this morning. Jealousy caused him to say things he shouldn’t have.

Ambrose was no rake, not in the same way Blythe was, but he had also never lacked female companionship. Taking a woman to bed was an enjoyable, physical release. But he’d never desired any of those previous lovers in quite the same way he did Theodosia. Their joining had been shattering. Intense. It had been more than consummating a marriage, more than a physical release. Ambrose knew the difference.

Theodosia hadn’t thought last night meant anything to him and couldn’t see what it meant to her. That’s why she was angry.

Ambrose took one last look at his sister and Theodosia before he set out in the opposite direction, heading toward the village. The weather was fine, and he needed to walk off some of the tension pulling at his muscles. Being here did that to him. Made him remember.

Besides, the only horses at Greenbriar were the ones still hitched to the Duke of Averell’s coach.