The Marquess Method by Kathleen Ayers

19

Theo sat back, trying to get comfortable in one of the two chairs in the drawing room, nearly impossible since both lacked a decent cushion. She took the one with the spring sticking out to spare Jacinda.

The conversation with Jacinda still echoed in her thoughts. Why couldn’t Haven have just stayed in his role of the disreputable, sarcastic marquess who liked to spout insults about her eyesight? Why must he be so bloody interesting?

Haven deserved some sympathy. It didn’t even seem fair for her to continue to call him a fortune hunter. Jacinda was lame. She had no hope of finding a husband without a dowry. That alone made Theo’s heart break. He’d been forced to care for Erasmus, and even though Haven kept saying his uncle didn’t really look like the late marquess, it still couldn’t be pleasant to see him every day. The estate, the only property he had left, was in bits and pieces. And Haven had never made peace with his father before his death.

Theo knew a thing or two about estranged fathers and sons.

All of which muddled her feelings even further. She didn’t want to consider Haven and his suffering. At least not today.

“Tea, Lady Haven?” Mrs. Henderson, robust and comforting, interrupted her thoughts, standing before her holding a tray loaded with biscuits and a chipped teapot, steam rolling out of the spout.

“You are a treasure, Mrs. Henderson.” Theo nodded in appreciation. “Lord Haven has told me so on many occasions.” A small lie, one she thought the housekeeper might like to hear.

Mrs. Henderson’s plump cheeks pinked at the compliment. “Will you wish to inspect the kitchens?”

Bollocks.Theo had no idea what to even look for. “Perhaps tomorrow, Mrs. Henderson. These biscuits,” Theo said as the housekeeper set the tray on the table, “look divine.”

“I do hope you like them, my lady. My own twist on an old recipe. A favorite of his lordship since he was a lad.”

“Well, then I hope you’ve baked dozens.” Theo bit into the biscuit. “Given my husband’s appetite.”

A small chuckle came from the housekeeper. “Several dozen, my lady.”

Jacinda munched on a biscuit. “Ambrose will eat them all.”

“Have you seen Lord Haven, Mrs. Henderson? Is he wandering about your kitchen?” It was mildly embarrassing, not knowing where her husband was, even if she wasn’t supposed to care. The kitchens seemed a likely spot for him to be. Haven was always hungry.

Mrs. Henderson’s face shuttered almost immediately, the polite smile faltering. “No, my lady. I saw him walking to the village earlier. I can check with Mr. Henderson if you like—”

“I’m sure he’s gone to fetch my uncle,” Jacinda interrupted through a mouth full of biscuit.

“Poor soul,” Mrs. Henderson stated. “He’ll find him, I’ve no doubt.”

“I’m certain of it.” Theo took up the pencil and paper Jacinda had found for her. There was much to consider. Work to be done. No time to be worrying about the sot of an uncle or Haven.

Theodosia’s Enormous Endeavor.

She began to make notes. A great many of them. Though she’d no idea, really, of what she was doing. When Mrs. Henderson tried to leave, Theo stopped her. “Would it be all right, Mrs. Henderson, if Jacinda and I eat in here before the fire?”

Jacinda nodded as she sipped her tea.

“Of course, my lady. I’ve made stew.”

“Perfect. And I want a list of everything you think the kitchen requires, including additional servants. The larder must be restocked. I trust you to determine what is needed.”

Mrs. Henderson’s eyes bulged at the request. “Yes, my lady. But might I make a suggestion, Lady Haven?”

Theo stopped scratching away and looked up at her. If Mrs. Henderson decided to retire from her post, she might be forced to beg the older woman not to leave.

“Greenbriar needs a proper cook.”

Theo had assumed Mrs. Henderson was the cook as well as the housekeeper. “I see,” she replied carefully.

“I was the housekeeper before,” she waved a plump hand, “but took over other duties as was needed. Not that I minded,” she hastened to add. “While I am a passable cook, my lady, I’m not what you need to run a proper kitchen. My skills are biscuits, pies, stew and the like. A marquess needs a skilled cook.”

Theo adored stew, but she could see Mrs. Henderson’s point. “I appreciate your honesty, Mrs. Henderson. And in the same spirit, I feel I should inform you I’m terrible at running a household.” She tapped the pencil against her chin. “I realize I should know such things, but I was far too busy painting. Ordering people about is really my elder sister’s forte.” She smiled up at Mrs. Henderson. “I desperately need your help. Will you stay on as housekeeper?”

Mrs. Henderson beamed. “Of course. I’ve no wish to leave Lady Jacinda or Greenbriar.”

“I’ve no wish to have you leave me either, Mrs. Henderson.” Jacinda smiled up at the housekeeper.

“I will not let you down, my lady,” the housekeeper said to Theo, looking as if she were about to lead a military charge. “I know how things are to be done at Greenbriar. If I may be so bold, Lady Haven, I’ve someone in mind for a cook and you’ll be needing a butler, will you not?”

“I will. Someone fierce, Mrs. Henderson.” The butler would need to be made of iron to stand up to Haven.

“I’ve just the gentleman in mind. A cousin of my sister’s husband. Recently left his position with the Duke of Haverly.”

“Wonderful. Bring him tomorrow.” Maids and footmen needed to be hired immediately, along with a team of women to come and clean the house from top to bottom.

“Mr. Henderson knows everyone in the village,” Mrs. Henderson added. “My husband can find you cleaning women and put the word out that Greenbriar is looking for staff.”

“Tradesmen must be found as well.” Theo tapped her finger against her lips. “Carpenters. We need new paint. Rugs. Wallpaper. Furnishings.” She snagged the last biscuit from the tray. “Please sit down, Mrs. Henderson. We have quite a lot to do.” Theo had only just arrived, but she already felt the urgency pulling at her to fix Greenbriar, whether for herself or Haven and his sister, she wasn’t sure.

“A moment, my lady.” Mrs. Henderson fled to the kitchen for more biscuits and another chair, summoning her husband. Mr. Henderson arrived a short time later, his angular features obviously confused by the summons, his long white hair flowing over his shoulders. After introductions were made, the housekeeper sent Mr. Henderson to the village, advising him not to return until he’d hired enough women to clean the house from top to bottom.

Theo hoped he could remember his way there and back. Mr. Henderson seemed a bit forgetful.

“War injury,” Jacinda whispered to her. “A blow to the head.”

Feeling much better, Theo ate another biscuit, ideas flowing to the pencil in her hand. Several hours passed swiftly as she and Jacinda made plans. Theo scratched out instructions. Bits of paper piled around her. Every so often, she would close her eyes and pretend to walk through Cherry Hill. She knew each room by heart. Every painting, table, bit of china, and rug. Her eyes would snap open, mind churning with inspiration.

Mrs. Henderson arrived after a time with the aforementioned stew, the smell of which made Theo’s mouth water. She’d been too upset to do more than have a cup of tea and a nibble of toast before leaving the inn. Had it only been this morning? The remainder of the day and evening had passed swiftly and, Theo thought, productively. Night was falling. Theo had no idea what time it was. In addition to everything else it lacked, Greenbriar didn’t have a clock.

She made another note.

The stew was excellent and accompanied by fresh baked bread. Theo finished every bit. Still, there was no sign of Haven. Or his uncle.

Jacinda, eyelids drooping, finally bid Theo goodnight. “It has been a most exciting day, Theo. Like a whirlwind.” A tired smile crossed her lips. “Very diverting.” There was a touch of Haven’s sarcasm in her words.

Theo adored her all the more for it.

Finally, her own eyes burning with exhaustion, Theo decided Haven would appear when he wished it, whether she waited up for him or not. It wasn’t as if she planned on engaging him in conversation. She stretched, hearing the creak of her neck, and made her way up the stairs, carefully avoiding each of the broken steps Jacinda had pointed out earlier. She arrived at her room to see the ever-efficient Betts waiting for her.

“Have you eaten, Betts? I keep forgetting you’re here, and I don’t mean to. It’s just—well there was quite a bit to occupy me.”

“You’ve been inspired, my lady. You behave much the same way when you’ve found something you must paint. And very much like Her Grace, your mother, when she’s found a project.”

“You think so, Betts?” Romy was most often compared to their mother, not Theo.

“I do indeed.” The maid raised one brow. “It’s a shambles, isn’t it, my lady? Greenbriar, that is. I can’t imagine if something like this were to happen to Cherry Hill.”

“I hadn’t thought it would be so bad.” Theo took her maid’s arm and led her to the bed so they could both sit down. “Haven didn’t exactly prepare me. Not well, at least. I can’t believe he allowed Greenbriar to fall to shambles. And before you try to find a discreet, maidly way to ask me, yes. I had a wedding night. It was fine.”

Betts raised her brow. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

Theo narrowed her eyes. “You were. And don’t ask anything else. Tell me what you think of Greenbriar. I value your observations.”

Her maid puffed up a bit at that. “Mrs. Henderson’s a lovely woman. Clucks over Lady Jacinda like a mother hen. She’s the glue holding this place together, especially with his lordship gone so much. Husband’s a good sort too, though he’s a bit daft, much like the uncle.”

“I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Henderson earlier. He’s gone to the village to find some women to clean this place from top to bottom. And I’ve a man coming to interview for the position of butler tomorrow. And a cook.”

“A good start, my lady.” Betts smoothed her skirts. “I explored a bit when I arrived, as I assumed you’d wish me to. Discreetly, of course. The larder is nearly bare, though the kitchen itself is in decent shape. Mrs. Henderson isn’t creative in her cooking, but the food is satisfying.”

“She said as much.”

“The kitchen garden has been run over by rabbits with only a few greens worth salvaging. While you were with Lady Jacinda, I put the two Averell footmen along with the driver in the head groom’s quarters, which were empty since there isn’t a head groom or any grooms at all. But those rooms are in much better condition than the servants’ quarters upstairs.” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “The lads are fine. Well fed.”

“And Stitch?” Betts had a flirtatious relationship with the driver.

Betts turned pink. “He enjoyed the stew.”

Theo’s fingers thumped the mattress. Now that she was sitting and not in motion, or arguing with Haven, the enormity of the situation was starting to form itself into a large ball of dread in her stomach. “I should have just fled to America. Better to be a pariah than to have to deal with Greenbriar. We could be eating oysters and drinking champagne with Leo.”

Betts snorted. “You don’t care for either. And I’ve never known you to run from anything, my lady.”

Theo laughed. “I believe you’re thinking of my sisters. I am in no way suited for this. I paint miniatures, Betts. I barely have the courage to branch out onto a larger canvas let alone make repairs to a country estate. You know as well as I do, I’m merely the flighty, artistic Barrington. The strange one who hides on the third floor and paints. I wear hideous spectacles.” She gestured to her face. “I threw myself at the first man who paid me the least amount of attention.” Theo sucked in her breath as the words came out in a rush. “Which resulted in me being compromised by accident. By a destitute marquess who brought me to,” her voice raised an octave, “this.”

Betts gave her a patient look.

“I’m not Romy who can take charge of everything and have it come out perfectly, or Olivia who would know exactly what to do. God forbid, I’m not even Phaedra who would just blaze in here and demand attention, I’m—

“Lady Haven,” Betts said firmly. “You are Lady Haven. And mess or not, prepared or not, this is now your home. At least until you decide to take His Grace’s coach back to London. If you do not think you can do a thing, you must prove yourself wrong. Not once, my lady, have you fainted, fallen to the floor weeping, or otherwise become morose over your circumstances. Don’t forget it was you who assisted your mother when she made the renovations to Cherry Hill. Not Lady Andromeda.”

“Yes, but I was barely Phaedra’s age. All I did was pick some colors. You helped me.”

“I recall a young lady who, in finding out the painters your mother hired had taken advantage of her good nature, demanded a better price.”

She had done that. Papa had endured his first of many declines, and her mother had been sick with worry, preoccupied with caring for him.

“It was you who chose the color for the guestrooms. The proper light to display those statues and paintings Her Grace so loves. And your painting is glorious.”

“Useless talents, I’m afraid. I never paid much attention to running a household.”

“You’ve Mrs. Henderson for that. And me. Your ‘useless’ talents, as you call them, are in dire need here, my lady.” Her arms swept out in what Theo imagined was meant to encompass all of Greenbriar.

Theo steadied herself. What would she do without Betts? “I’m done with my tirade of self-pity.” She took her maid’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Very good, my lady. I find such things as exhausting as cleaning your paintbrushes.” Her maid winked.

Betts had cleaned exactly onepaintbrush in all the time she’d been Theo’s maid. “It was one brush, but I take your point.”

The maid stood, nodding at the bed. “A new mattress should be at the top of your list, my lady. I’ll pop downstairs and heat some water so you can wash and be back in a moment. I’ve a small packet of herbs for the water. You can soak a wet cloth.” She looked pointedly at Theo. “To ease any pain.”

“Thank you, Betts.” Theo hadn’t paid much attention to anything but Greenbriar today. There was a tiny bit of soreness from last night, but she wasn’t in any pain. “I don’t think I require any special attention.”

Betts just raised a brow at her before bustling out the door. Once she was gone, Theo flopped back on the bed, mind whirling with the list of things required to bring Greenbriar back to life. Possibly, she shouldn’t even care. She could just ignore the crumbling estate for a few weeks and return to London. The idea had merit.

And where was Haven?

Theo had anticipated a bit of groveling from him after their argument this morning. Maybe some teasing. At the very least, he could have joined her for dinner. Instead, he’d taken off without a word for the remainder of the day, allowing her to be shown around by Jacinda.

I dismissed him.

True, but she hadn’t thought Haven could be dismissed.

She rolled her head over and sat up, looking out the window at a lone rose bush struggling to survive among the weeds along the side of the house. “I suppose I need a bloody gardener too.” This might be the only time in recent memory she actually missed Granby. He’d have the withering plants outside blooming again in no time.

Betts bustled into the room again with warm water, soap, and a towel. “You must add linens to the list, my lady. Most of what I could find are,” she held up the towel which Theo could see through, “not in the finest shape.”

“Nothing at all is in fine shape here, Betts. Whatever would I do without you? I’m so grateful you are here, as well as Ronald and Coates.” She named the two Averell footmen.

“And Stitch,” Betts reminded her.

“Of course. And Stitch.”

Betts held up the towel for Theo, casting a glance out the window as she did so. “Lord Haven has just returned with his uncle, my lady. The terrible sot.”

“Is he really so bad?”

“I should be asking you that, my lady.”

“I meant Erasmus, Betts.”

Her maid bit back a smile. “I had a cousin. Trembled something terrible. Couldn’t even attend a dance due to his nervous condition. Always counted all his steps, no matter where he walked. The only way for him to get through the day was his gin. Lord Erasmus reminds me of my cousin. The worst thing he’d done, according to Mrs. Henderson, was steal some of Lady Jacinda’s books to buy drink. Which she forgave him for, though Lord Haven did not. Yelled at his uncle for it. Lord Erasmus is tetched in the head, I warrant. Much like Mr. Henderson.”

“A war injury,” Theo said absently. “Mr. Henderson, that is.”

“He’s harmless but bothersome. Gave me a half-dead rose just this morning. You’ll form your own opinion, I’m sure. Stays drunk a great deal of the time, always mumbling. Sometimes in another language—”

“French, most likely. Erasmus lived there for many years until, well, until he couldn’t.”

“Whatever it is, it hurts these poor English ears to hear it. Trembles something terrible due to the drink. When I arrived, I found him passed out in the drawing room. Nearly tripped over him. Screamed as if I’d stabbed him. It was so dark without the lamps lit, I thought he was a rolled-up rug.”

“Until you realized there are no rugs left at Greenbriar.”

Betts shot her a grin. “Nor proper chairs or beds. According to Mrs. Henderson,” Betts lowered her voice, “the uncle was the one who suggested the late marquess sell everything that wasn’t nailed down. Encouraged it. Probably because the marquess was so deeply in debt.”

“I’m sure,” Theo answered.

“There’s not a portrait, vase or knickknack left.” Betts clucked her tongue as she helped ready Theo for bed.

“Betts, you must think me terrible. I completely forgot. Where will you sleep if there aren’t any beds in the servant’s quarters?”

“You’re not to worry, my lady. I’ve found a spot downstairs in a small parlor Mrs. Henderson said once belonged to Lord Haven’s mother. A veritable paradise. There are two sofas. They’ve seen better days, mind you, fabric torn and such, but they aren’t uncomfortable. Probably why they weren’t sold along with everything else. Made myself a cozy little nook. Had the things from your studio all put inside so I can keep an eye on them. As well as your extra trunks. I keep the room locked up. Mrs. Henderson assures me I’ve got the only key.”

“Is it really necessary to lock things up?” she said before recalling what had happened to Jacinda’s books. “Never mind. I assume because of Haven’s uncle.”

“Things do tend to walk off, according to Mrs. Henderson, especially if Lord Erasmus is out of drink. Don’t want him trying to sell one of your gowns or a miniature you’ve done. Like any true sot, he has bottles of spirits stashed all over the house. And in the tree at the edge of the drive. But don’t worry, he won’t dare come up here. He’s terrified of Lord Haven. And before you ask, I’m not sure where he sleeps.” She shrugged.

“I’m sure he has a room somewhere.” Haven had still not made an appearance despite the statement from Betts that she’d seen him come up the drive with Erasmus in tow. She’d have expected he would at least check on her.

Stifling a yawn, Theo waved Betts goodnight before sinking beneath the sheets. At least they were clean and smelled of soap and sunshine. Probably the doing of her maid. Betts deserved something special for tolerating such poor working conditions. Perhaps Theo would have Romy design a dress for Betts. One she could wear on her day off or if she chose to let Stitch court her.

She rolled over on her side, trying to get comfortable on the mattress—impossible because it sagged dreadfully in the middle. The soreness made itself known when she moved. Theo could still feel Haven’s mouth on her breasts, the featherlight touch across her skin. Annoyance tightened her lips. She shouldn’t have had to navigate today without him regardless of whether she’d dismissed him or not.

A moment later, the door opened. Finally. Theo didn’t bother to roll over or greet him.

“I doubt you’re asleep.” Exhaustion colored the low timbre of Haven’s voice.

He circled the bed, lamp in hand, until he faced her, dripping water all over the floor and across the bed. The corner of his shirt was torn and covered in dirt. His mop of hair stuck out sharply, drops of water dripping from the ends. One of his cheeks had a cut, and his knuckles were scraped and raw looking.

Dear God. He is Theseus the tomcat.

It was obvious he’d been in a fight. And just as apparent he’d bathed somewhere. A pond or a stream would be her guess. There was a thin strand of grass stuck in his hair. He sat on the bed and took off one boot, flinging mud across the room.

“What are you doing?” Theo sat up. Surely, he didn’t think they were sharing this room tonight after what he’d said to her this morning. Because they weren’t.

“Taking my boots off.” He craned his neck to take her in. “What does it look like.”

Not so much as an apology for leaving her adrift in this bloody heap the entire day. Not a hint of groveling for his false assumptions. “It looks like, my lord, that you are planning to disrobe, which I insist you do in another room.”

“You sound very prim this evening, Theodosia. Quite a departure from last night. And I feel as if we’ve already had this conversation.”

“Sleep with your uncle. I assume you’ve found him.”

Haven tossed his other boot across the room, stood, and stripped off his shirt as he walked, completely disregarding her request that he disrobe elsewhere. The muscles of his back flexed, bunching beneath his skin as he tossed the shirt to the floor.

Despite her anger at him, Theo couldn’t look away. Her fingers stretched at the remembered feel of all that sinew beneath her fingers. A soft throb at the apex of her thighs had her clutching the sheets.

Dammit.

It was very hard to make her point and stand her ground when her own body betrayed her so blatantly.

“I’m very tired, Theodosia,” he growled. “I promise, I’ve no desire for anything but sleep. You are safe from my attentions.”

“You left me here to flounder—”

“I sincerely doubt you’ve ever floundered in your life, Theodosia. Of all the things I admire about the Barrington women, I find your ability to let nothing deter you to be one of your finest qualities.”

Why must he compliment her? “That’s a nice way of saying we’re stubborn.”

He shrugged and started to pull off his trousers. “If you will recall, you dismissed me and set off with Jacinda. Declared, not in so many words, that you would take charge of this house.”

God help her, she could not look away. The rise of muscular buttocks and thighs appeared. He had a scar along one shoulder blade as if someone had swiped at him with a sword from behind. Or a knife. Such beautiful lines. Haven would have made such a lovely pirate.

An ache, like the slow drip of honey, slid lower, making her thighs tremble.

“I’m still angry.” The declaration was more for herself than for him.

“And I’ve apologized. It isn’t my fault you don’t want to accept it.” Haven flipped back the covers, meaning to get into bed with her.

She reached over and flipped them back.

“I told you. There isn’t another decent bed,” he said. “In case you haven’t noticed, because you can’t see most of the time, there is also a shortage of furniture at Greenbriar in general.”

Only a blind person, of which he just accused her of being, wouldn’t have noticed. The sarcasm in his reply did little to hide the shame lingering in his words. A rush of pity filled her, something Haven would detest if he glimpsed it.

“Miss Emerson would never have survived this,” Theo said in a casual tone. “She would have run screaming back to her carriage, wedding bouquet still clutched in her hand.”

“As I said, you are made of much sterner stuff, Theodosia. Though you claim to be a frivolous, odd Barrington with little to recommend you but scandalous self-portraits.”

“At least,” she pretended to be offended by his nakedness, “put something on.”

“Why? You’ve already seen everything. Or at least the blurry outline,” Haven shot back. “I don’t often wear anything to bed, and I don’t expect to start tonight. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she felt the need to say even though he’d made no attempt to do so. Taking two pillows, she neatly divided the bed in half.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Theodosia,” he said before blowing out the lamp. And with that, Haven collapsed on the bed.

* * *

Ambrose flopped backon the mattress, thumping hard to smooth out a tiny rise poking him in the side. Theodosia’s mood wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it would be, though he didn’t care overmuch for the pillows in the middle of the bed. She had every right to toss him out of the room and kick him down the stairs after leaving her alone today, especially after their heated discussion at the inn.

Greenbriar and the events which had led to its current state often left Ambrose in turmoil, and today was no exception. How often had he arrived here from London, exhausted by his efforts to continuously plug the holes in a sinking ship, to be greeted with the neglect of both his family and the home he loved? Had he been a different sort of man, Ambrose might have avoided Greenbriar and its inhabitants altogether. He could have provided for his sister from London, but being here was a very specific sort of torture for him, and so he always returned. Today, Theodosia had needed distance, which he had been happy to give her. Not just for her sake, but his own. He didn’t think he could bear to see her face as she looked at Greenbriar. Cowardly of him, but true.

Genteel poverty was not a state Ambrose had ever thought he and Jacinda would be subjected to. He had been woefully unprepared for the responsibility. The disbelief over his father’s flagrant disregard for anything other than his own pleasure, along with the sadness, would sink into him the moment Greenbriar came into view, bringing back every word of the ugly argument between them. His father had been roaring drunk, snarling at Ambrose for daring to approach Leo Murphy to cut off his credit at Elysium.

The guilt slowly ate away at Ambrose, taking pieces of him as the years went by. Because he’d lost his temper and left England, not even bothering to tell Jacinda goodbye. He hadn’t been here to stop Leo Murphy, selfish prick, as he proceeded to take advantage of a grief-stricken man. Ambrose had been unable to halt the bleeding of Greenbriar and his family fortune. Nor present to save his beloved sister from the accident that lamed her. At least Erasmus had been here to care for her, no matter his reason for returning to Greenbriar.

Ambrose pinched his nose, feeling the small bump, longing for the time in his life when he hadn’t felt such overwhelming regret over the choices he’d made. Now the yawning abyss of guilt which always threatened to swallow him had stretched to include Theodosia. If Ambrose didn’t succeed in driving her away out of sheer stupidity, she was still bound to leave him if Leo Murphy saw fit to inform her of Ambrose’s threats. How the heir to the Marquess of Haven blamed Elysium and Murphy for beggaring his father. The threats Ambrose had made to take back the Collingwood fortune under any means necessary. Murphy would explain to Theodosia that she’d only been a pawn in Ambrose’s bid to avenge his family’s nonexistent honor.

Pain lanced across his chest.

He’d taken his time looking for Erasmus because he hadn’t really wanted to find his uncle, nor did he want to face Greenbriar and his own guilt, trapped neatly within the confines of its walls. Instead, Ambrose had stopped to check on the tenants he’d been successful in either luring back or convincing to stay. There was a pig farmer, Jasper, who he had high hopes for. A portion of the fence around Jasper’s pigs was in disrepair, so Ambrose had gotten in the muck with the farmer and helped him fix it.

Feeling somewhat lighter after the physical labor but still unwilling to see Theodosia’s reaction to Greenbriar, Ambrose had made two more stops, greeting his few tenants and asking what he could do to help them. His father had taught him the importance of listening before he became a walking tragedy.

It would take several years or more for Greenbriar to be profitable again, or at least be self-sufficient, but even so, Ambrose wasn’t about to pin his financial hopes on the estate. Poverty had been a bitter pill to swallow, and one he vowed never to taste again. After the marriage contracts had been signed, Ambrose had paid a visit to Estwood. His friend had already invested a portion of Theodosia’s dowry. There was more than enough left over for Greenbriar.

Eventually, he’d found Erasmus, so drunk he could barely speak. The punch he’d thrown at his nephew, because he thought Ambrose to be a ‘frightening monster’ as he put it, missed. It did not miss the tankard of ale sitting on the bar, which splashed all over another one of the patrons. After a small fistfight which Ambrose had enjoyed more than he should have, he’d pulled his uncle up from the tavern floor where he’d fallen asleep once again. He probably should have just left Erasmus there with bits of dirt and sawdust stuck to his face, but he didn’t. Uncle Erasmus, for better or worse, was all Ambrose had left of his father. He considered Erasmus a sort of penance for leaving Greenbriar. A punishment for never mending things with his father before he died, something Erasmus reminded him of often.

Looking up, Ambrose remembered Theodosia’s ridiculous declaration that she would rather admire the ceiling than dare to enjoy being bedded by him. His chest still ached at knowing he’d hurt her. He was bound to do so again. The sound of her breathing, deep and even, met his ears over the mound of pillows and the scent of lemons caught in his nose. Placing a hand on one of the pillows, he pushed it down until he caught sight of Theodosia’s back.

“I’m hiring servants. An army of them,” Theodosia said clearly.

She hadn’t fallen asleep after all. Little faker. “I would expect you to. I’m only shocked the house isn’t crawling with them already.”

“Miss Emerson might know how to plan a menu, but I doubt she knows how to pick out the appropriate hue for a drawing room.”

Ambrose had no idea what Theodosia was talking about, nor did he care. What mattered was that she was speaking to him again. “Fortunate I compromised you and not Miss Emerson then, isn’t it?”

A small, feminine grunt was his only response.

His chest constricted as Ambrose’s feelings for his wife took on a more brilliant sheen, one he didn’t even try to push away. He wanted so badly to touch her and tell her again how sorry he was for hurting her.

Gorgeous, half-blind creature, I adore you.