The Marquess Method by Kathleen Ayers

30

Theo’s fingers curled around the neck of the brandy bottle. She stopped, seeing a shadow on the terrace, one too rounded to be her husband.

“Me!” She heard the word, slightly muffled, through the doors leading to the terrace.

Erasmus.

Rolfe was no longer behind her. She’d asked him to send Coates for the constable. There were footmen around, though. Somewhere. But Theo didn’t want to tip off Erasmus by summoning them. He might startle and shoot Haven.

She hefted the brandy bottle. She really disliked Haven’s uncle, regretting every bit of coin she’d ever given him. Preying on her sympathy. Trying to sell her miniatures. Attempting to kill her husband.

Theo opened the door to the terrace quietly. The two men before her never even looked in her direction as she slid onto the terrace. Theo, much like her sisters, was very good at playing bowls. And while tossing a brandy bottle wasn’t exactly the same, she thought she could manage. Though it was hard to see. If there was ever a time Theo truly wished she had her spectacles, it was now.

“Heavens, no.” Erasmus sounded offended. “I may have detested Edmund, but I’m no murderer. He choked in his sleep.” Haven’s uncle made a face. “A heavy dinner, far too much wine, and a whore. You, Ambrose, will be my very first murder.”

Not if Theo had anything to say about it. She crept closer and placed her feet in the correct stance. Tossing the brandy bottle at Erasmus was probably the best she could manage. It would be enough. Haven would do the rest. Even now, though she could barely see him, Theo suspected he was coiled up like Theseus, ready to strike a large rat.

“Lucky me.”

“No, I’m the lucky one. I will finally have the title I deserve. Marquess of Haven. You’ve already brought me a fortune and pissed off your wife. She’ll be told the same thing as everyone else. You shot yourself cleaning your gun.”

“No one will believe for an instant that I can’t clean a gun properly. Or that I was doing so while outside on the terrace.”

“Everyone knows your despondency over Theodosia. No one will think it an accident,” Erasmus said sadly.

Theo pressed a hand to her heart. Haven had been despondent. She knew he loved her.

Focus, Theo.

She crouched, swinging her arm as if she were about to toss a bowl.

“You’ve been mooning over her for weeks. I am sympathetic, having lost my own true love. I’m doing you a kindness, Nephew. Erasmus raised a trembling hand, attempting to aim. “Now, hold still if you please.”

Theo tossed the bottle, wishing she had something clever to say to Erasmus as she did so. The bottle swung over his head, the neck clipping his ear before it disappeared into the darkness of the garden with a loud thud.

Dammit.

The distraction was all Haven needed to leap at Erasmus. He easily took the pistol from his uncle, who screeched like an owl at his nephew’s assault. Haven punched him once, hard, in the nose, and Erasmus fell to the terrace, blood seeping through his fingers. He turned to look over at her.

“Theodosia, you’re here.” There was wonder in his voice.

“I am. I came to save you. From him.”

“I suppose I should count myself fortunate you could see well enough to discern who was who and I wasn’t hit with a brandy bottle.” He held out his hand, reaching for her, before turning back to his uncle.

Theo went to him without hesitation, peace filling her at the feel of Haven’s strong fingers curling around hers. They could discuss the particulars later.

* * *

“I suspected it was him,”Jacinda said.

Theo looked up from her seat in the drawing room as they waited for the constable to arrive. Hearing the commotion on the terrace, Rolfe had rushed out along with one of the recently hired footmen. They’d taken the sobbing Erasmus down the hall to the small parlor, ironically the same room Theo’s trunks had once been locked in. Jacinda, hearing the commotion, had come down the stairs, giving her brother a wide-eyed look before hugging Theo.

Now, Haven’s sister sat across from her in the drawing room, sipping on a cup of tea procured by Rolfe.

“What do you mean you suspected him? Why on earth wouldn’t you have said anything to me?” Haven was pacing about like a caged tiger, threatening to wear holes in the new rug Theo had purchased. “How, Jacinda? I didn’t.”

“You weren’t here, Ambrose,” Jacinda stated. “And I didn’t suspect him at first. Why would I? I’m not even sure I knew I had an uncle until he showed up at Greenbriar while you were gone. Before Uncle Erasmus officially arrived, Mr. Henderson kept babbling about seeing Lord Haven down by the tree. You know, the one where our uncle eventually took up residence? One night, he came in to tell Mrs. Henderson that his lordship had sworn at him like those soldiers who followed old Boney. Napoleon is who he meant. Mr. Henderson fought with Wellington in his youth.”

“I’m familiar, Jacinda.”

“He was speaking French,” Theo said. All the energy rushing through her earlier in her anxiousness to get to Haven had faded and was quickly being replaced with exhaustion. “I take it your father did not speak French. Nor was he, I suspect, overly fond of brandy.”

“No. And there were times,” Jacinda said, “when I was certain father was upstairs, but I’d see him walking out to that tree.” She shook her head. “Erasmus was here on and off and I never knew it. Not then, anyway.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Rolfe’s broad shoulders appeared. “My lord, the constable has arrived.”

Haven nodded and went to his sister. “Go up, Jacinda. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

She set down her cup, hobbling over to Theo and taking her hand. “Thank you for rescuing my brother.”

“I didn’t need rescuing,” Haven replied. “I had the situation in hand. All she did was toss a brandy bottle. Poorly. She was just as likely to hit me.”

Theo didn’t mind his snarling. She’d felt the way his fingers had gripped hers, as if he were afraid she wasn’t real and would disappear. He was probably still worried she’d leave, which partially accounted for his mood.

Jacinda pressed a kiss to Theo’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re home, Theo.” She limped toward the door, her cane thumping along the floor. Pausing, she cast a narrow-eyed glance at her brother before drifting out into the hall.

“My lord.” Rolfe was still standing patiently. “The constable.”

“I’ll be along in a moment, Rolfe.” Haven waved his hand at the butler. “A moment.”

When she and Haven were alone again, he took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb along her fingers. “Don’t leave.” The intensity of his gaze on her deepened until the moss of his eyes was nearly black. He turned her hand over, pressing a kiss to her wrist. “Please.”

“I won’t, Ambrose. I promise.” Theo had no intention of leaving.

“I am profoundly happy you are here, Theo.” He pressed her fingers to his heart. “Wait for me. I’ll be up in a bit.” He dropped her fingers and walked to the door. “And don’t even think about putting up Theodosia’s Line of Demarcation.”