Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“ N o heart?” Margaret felt hollow. It was as if her legs would give way beneath her as she stared at Theo.

He was furious, his face pale and wan despite the fury. He held himself stiffly, his breathing so fast that his shoulder rose and fell with every breath he took.

“You think you have no heart?” she said again, stepping toward him.

To her surprise, he escaped her. He walked around the settee and put it between them, so there was actually a barrier there.

“You do have a heart. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen an act.”

“I have not! I know a little of you, Theo. Though you may pretend I don’t, I do. I know there’s more to you then what you present to the world –”

“There isn’t!” His voice was so loud now that she was forced to fall silent, staring at him in wonder.

She didn’t think he would shout at her with such venom, but clearly, she had been wrong.

“What the world sees is what is really here. ” He gestured to himself. “Let me tell you who I am.” He walked around the settee again. “I am a man obsessed with order.” He returned the whisky glass he had misplaced to the coaster and mopped the mess he had caused with his handkerchief in one swift movement. “I like everything in its place. Everything has to be just so.”

He kicked a footstool into place, as Margaret jumped back, fearing just how far he would kick that stool. He marched towards the game table and folded it up, pushing it back against the wall in its usual place.

“That is the only thing that has any meaning in my life,” he said sharply, turning to face her again.

“Nothing else gives meaning?” she asked, her voice low, but still strong.

“No, because I do not feel emotion like other people.” He gestured to his chest again, thumping his own hands into the center. “There is only stone here. Cold and hard. So do not delude yourself with thinking there’s anything else here.”

“That’s still not what I see.” She shook her head. She had glimpsed again and again there was more to him. What about the time he had caught her when she fell from the ladder? How he had urged her to eat? The fact that he came to eat with her more and more, so they spent an increasing amount of time together?

“Then you’ve created an illusion of who I am.” He walked around her. “It’s not who I am.” He snatched up the book he had left on the table, tucked it under his arm, then buttoned up his tailcoat neatly.

Perfect order. It’s all that matters to him, is it?

“You can say that, but I do not believe you.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“Theo!” she snapped at him.

“Stop calling me that.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“Not anymore. I’ve changed my mind. Do not call me that. Call me by my full name. There shall be no more intimacy. None at all!”

She didn’t know what had gotten into him, but she couldn’t bear it. She marched toward him, but he held his ground, no longer escaping her around the furniture.

“Is that what you’re afraid of here, Theo? Intimacy?”

“I’m afraid of nothing, because as I told you, there is only stone here.” He thumped his chest.

“There’s more to you –”

“There isn’t!”

She reached up toward him. She didn’t think about what she was doing, only that she had to end this argument now and show him how wrong her was, that there was in fact something much deeper to him.

She pulled sharply on his lapels, dragging him down toward her.

“What are you doing?” he flustered, dropping the book.

“Worried I’m making a mess of your suit?” she asked.

“Yes – mmnhm!” His words were cut off as he she crashed her lips against his own.

It was her first kiss. A far cry from what she had imagined it would be.

He stood there, stunned, his lapels in her grasp and not returning the press of her lips, yet she didn’t stop. She would show him what there was here, and just how close they had come to having this thrill earlier in the day, if he had only been the one to close the distance between them.

He still won’t kiss me back.

It seemed to go on endlessly, her kissing him and him responding merely as a stone statue would.

She was about to pull back. She released his lapels, her head jerking back, when suddenly, he moved forward.

His hands took hold of her waist and brought her to him just as he moved their lips together again. This time, he controlled every part of the kiss. It started soft and sensual, lips moving together and exploring. Heat erupted in Margaret’s gut as he kissed her.

How can a man who claims to have a heart of cold stone kiss with such passion?

He angled their heads together, deepening the kiss to something so intimate that Margaret was left completely breathless.

Then it was over. He pulled back sharply, the kiss ending as suddenly as it had begun, though his hands were still on her waist.

She thought she glimpsed the same heat she had felt in his eyes, that need, that passion, then it was gone. The blue eyes which she had spent so long staring at recently returning to something glacial and cold.

“That never happens again,” he hissed.

“You kissed me back,” she said between panting breaths. “You cannot deny that.”

He released her, holding his hands out at his side as if touching her waist had burned him.

“Enough delusions,” he muttered darkly. “This will always be a marriage of convenience. Nothing more.” He turned on his heel, quickly collected his book from the floor and practically ran out of the room.

The moment the door slammed shut behind him, Margaret’s emotions released from her in a flood. She clutched her stomach and stumbled back, falling into a chair for she could no longer stay standing.

The rush and excitement of that kiss was now replaced with utter heartbreak.

I was wrong.

The thought cut through her. When she had spoken that afternoon to her sisters about Theodore potentially caring for her, she had indeed been wrong. That kiss, perhaps any near moments they’d had together, weren’t born of care, and certainly not of heart.

He’s attracted, is he not? And that is all.

It explained why he could kiss her, how he could get lost in that kiss, but it also explained how he could push her away and break her heart.

I matter no more to him than any other woman who might walk past the front door of this house.

Her eyes prickled with tears. Choosing not to retire for the night, in case Theodore heard her cry through their adjoining door, she bundled her legs under her and cried on the settee, burying her face in her hands instead.

“Well, I have greatly enjoyed our stay,” Evelina said as she walked toward the front door.

Margaret’s sisters had been here for a whole week. The snow had begun to clear up outside, meaning the carriage could at last take leave safely.

Ahead of the two of them, Louisa, Alexandra, and Penelope were climbing into the carriage. Alexandra kept glancing back at the house, deep in thought, as Penelope looked rather eager to be in the carriage. In contrast, Louisa fussed with the book she had borrowed from Margaret’s library, checking repeatedly that she still had it in her hand.

“I have loved having you here, too,” Margaret said softly to Evelina, holding her hand tight as she escorted Evelina down the front stoop and toward the carriage.

“Though I am sorry your husband did not join us again. Is all well with him?”

Margaret swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat.

After their argument, Theodore had not made an appearance at breakfast, dinner, or any event with her sisters. Even when they went for walks in the garden through the snow, she caught a glimpse of Theodore at a distance, giving them a wide berth.

“I believe business grew much busier than he had expected.” Margaret lied thickly. Whether Evelina believed her or not, she wasn’t sure, for her sister just smiled sadly. They had now reached the carriage and if she did suspect the truth, she clearly did not intend to say it in front of their other sisters who could now hear everything. “You must all come and stay again soon. It makes me so happy to have you here.”

“Yes, we must come again,” Louisa said eagerly. “It is a happy home.”

Is it?

Margaret looked back at the house deep in thought. When she first arrived at this house, it most certainly hadn’t felt like a happy home. Yet she had cheered the place up. The fresh décor and the people had made it feel warm and inviting. Over the last week though, the only happiness in this house came from her sisters and the staff.

Theodore was like a dark shadow in the corner, refusing to partake in any of that happiness.

“How are you feeling?” Margaret turned to Evelina and took her hand once again, helping her into the carriage.

“The nausea has settled now. It often gets me worse in the morning. I will be well.” She smiled with assurance as she sat int eh carriage beside Louisa who took her hand. “I shall drop our sisters home then return home myself. Gabriel will take good care of me.”

Margaret forced a smile.

An image flitted across her mind. It was of the day Theodore had caught her when she had fallen from that ladder, then ensured she had eaten. She imagined after their argument the other day, he would never show any amount of care toward her again.

“Father will ask about this visit,” Alexandra mused in thought, making all smiles drop around them as Margaret shifted where she stood in the doorway of the carriage. “What shall we tell him?”

“Tell him the truth.”

“I mean, when he asks about money… if we have brought anything home for him, what shall we say?” Alexandra asked.

Margaret’s stomach stiffened.

“Any money I give to you now, will be going to you. It will not be going to our father. If he asks, just tell him that Theodore has insisted we don’t give him any more money. He will not question it if it is a duke’s decision rather than my own.”

Alexandra nodded in understanding. Evelina must have seen something more in Margaret’s expression, something she was trying to hide, for she reached forward and took Margaret’s hand, squeezing softly.

“We’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, very soon,” Margaret assured Evelina. “Safe journey home.” She released her sister and closed the carriage door, then hurried back to the front stoop.

Though the snow was melting, the air was cold, prompting her to run her hands over her arms, trying to get rid of her goosebumps. As the carriage pulled down the drive, her sisters leaned forward and waved at her in parting.

I had been happy when they were here.

The thought that the happiness was leaving with them made her stand for much longer on the step than she had intended to. In the end, her breath clouded the air, and the only thing that made her stir was a fur pelisse being dropped on her shoulders.

She turned to see Betsy behind her.

“I didn’t want you to be cold, Your Grace.”

“You are most kind, Betsy.” Margaret smiled at her softly. “Could I have some tea please?”

“Yes, of course.” Betsy beckoned her inside. “Shall I set you up in the sitting room?”

Margaret shook her head. The sitting room she now associated with the happy air of her sisters.

“No, in the small parlor please.” She knew that Theodore never went in there. There would be no chance of running into him in that part of the house.

As Betsy hurried off to prepare the tea, Margaret hesitated in the hallway of the house. On the hall table rested a letter which had already been opened, the red wax seal half torn open.

Margaret lifted the letter up from it rested, turning it over to recognize the name of Cedric Pembroke, the Earl of St Vincent.

The letter was an invitation to both Theodore and Margaret, welcoming them to a Christmas dinner party at his London home. Margaret frowned at the letter. From how it had been discarded on the hall table, she presumed that Theodore had no time for the letter.

Confused, for Cedric was both his cousin and his friend, Margaret walked straight toward the study, thinking the better of her decision to avoid Theodore. She walked straight into the room, not bothering to knock.

Behind the desk, Theodore lowered the account books he had been reading. He was clearly shocked to see her, for he sat bolt upright at once, nearly dropping the account book.

“You left this in the hallway.” She held up the letter, not bothering to talk to him with any nicety or common courtesy. After all, he had made it plain he had no heart when talking to her. Why should she show any heart when she was talking to him? “Will we be going?”

“No.” Theodore picked up his book again, holding it so high that it blocked his face.

“What did you say?” Margaret murmured in alarm, stepping toward his desk.

“No, we will not be going.”

“But he is your cousin, and your friend, supposedly from how you introduced him at our ball. Why would we not go to such an event at Christmas?”

“Because I have no wish to attend.” He turned the pages of his accounting book.

“Very well, you do not have to go.” She folded up the letter in her grasp and turned to the door, walking back out.

“Wait! What does that mean?” Theodore called after her.

“You cannot call me to your heel like a dog.”

“Then please wait,” Theo barked. She halted a little in the doorway, turning back to face him, raising her eyebrows and showing exactly what she thought of his tone. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that even if you have no intention going, I shall then reply to Lord St Vincent.” She held the letter up for him to see. “He is now my cousin, too, and I shall not spend the whole of Christmas here locked at home. I shall be going to his dinner party, whether you wish to come or not.” With finality, she turned and walked out of the room.