Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

T heo went out into the hall. He felt sick, whether from lack of food or for… for some other reason, he wasn’t sure. Breakfast was still laid out on the table, the food congealing in its dishes. The fire still blazed, the papers he’d wanted so badly to destroy long gone. The heat prickled along one side of him, uncomfortably warm.

He had stood there after Anna stormed out, almost frozen in place. The disappointment and hurt in her eyes lingered in his mind. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forget it.

It was necessary, though, wasn’t it? The harshness. It was the best for them both, especially for Anna.

“Wait,” he’d said, his mouth oddly dry. “Anna.”

She didn’t hear him. Her footsteps didn’t slow down. After a moment, he heard the soft padding of her steps ascending the stairs. When he finally got out into the hall, it was empty. Nobody was there. He thought he might have heard the sounds of Anna stomping around upstairs, slamming doors and raging.

She deserves to know. Doesn’t she?

“Your Grace?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, and he spun around to see Martha standing there, white-faced, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

“Oh, it’s you, Martha. Is Kitty alright?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes, Your Grace. I’m sorry to interrupt you, it’s just… it’s just that I heard it all, Your Grace. What you read in the scandal sheets and such. About… about Lady Katherine.”

Theo stiffened. “I made it clear, Martha, that the subject is not to be discussed. What if she were to hear?”

Martha bowed her head. Of course, Martha had been part of the household for decades, and she knew just about everything. Just like Timmins and Mrs. Haunt knew. Sometimes, Theo felt that if nobody had known, he might have pushed down the knowledge and pretended it did not exist.

Stupid, of course. If nobody else, he knew. That wretched man.

“It’s not my place to say, Your Grace,” Martha began, clearly determined to plow on with what she meant to say. “But…”

“But you’re going to say it anyway?” Theo said, smiling wryly. “Go ahead, then.”

Martha drew in a breath. “I… I was a little concerned, Your Grace, when you announced that you were getting married. Not for myself, you understand, but for Lady Katherine. Stepmothers can be… well, I had one myself, and you see a great deal of that in Society. They can be cruel to children who aren’t theirs.”

Theo blinked, a little taken aback by the woman’s bluntness. Martha had never spoken to him this way, and no servant with a string of sense would air their opinions about their employer’s spouse .

Martha continued doggedly. “But… but Her Grace is nothing like I expected. She’s kind and clever, and she loves Lady Katherine. The little girl adores her, like a real mother. All of us below stairs love Her Grace, just like we love Lady Katherine.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Theo said, adding a little austerity to her voice. “What are you saying, Martha?”

Martha wilted, just a little, but met his gaze squarely. “I’m saying that it would be a great pity for Lady Katherine if Her Grace wasn’t here. If she left, for some reason, Your Grace.”

She added the last part almost like an afterthought, then stepped back. From the set of her shoulders and the flicker of unease in her eyes, she seemed well aware that her little speech could quite easily get her dismissed.

“Thank you for speaking your mind,” Theo said, at last. “That will be all, Martha.”

Martha bobbed a relieved curtsey and scurried away.

Theo watched her disappear into the shadows. The ache in his chest hadn’t gone away, and he was under no illusions that it ever would.

Abruptly, he strode away, leaving the gloomy halls around the dining room behind, and headed to the front door.

“My coat and hat, Timmins, please,” he called when the butler dutifully materialized into view. “I am going out.”

At that hour, in the middle of the morning, Clara’s Heart was almost deserted.

There were a few hardened drunkards there, of course, but last night’s carousers would have been thrown out hours ago, and tonight’s carousers hadn’t yet arrived.

Theo was shown to his usual seat by a yawning footman and was told that when his companion arrived, he would be shown straight over. And then the footman disappeared, leaving him to lounge alone.

Their little alcove was generally very private, with a curtain that could be drawn for extra privacy, but since the club was almost empty, privacy was not really needed.

A pall of smoke hung in the air, stale and acrid, and the nearby coffee table was smudged with rings of sticky spilled alcohol, left to dry instead of being wiped away. When he shifted his feet, crumbs crunched under his soles.

Theo stifled a sigh. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to choose a new favorite place. After all, fathers were meant to take their sons to their clubs, and nobody in their right mind would bring a child to Clara’s Heart, not even the infamous Lucifer Langdon.

The thought of a child made his chest clench. He would be surprised if Anna had fallen pregnant right away, but it wasn’t unheard of. If she was with child, they could separate and never see each other again.

It should be a relief, so why did it make him feel so ill?

The footman brought back a glass of brandy without being asked and set it down on the table. Theo’s fingers closed around it before he could think twice. He could almost taste the tang of brandy on his tongue.

“There you are, old chap! I was surprised to get your note. I’m generally not out of bed at this time of day.”

“Unless something summons you,” Theo pointed out. “Here, take my brandy. I’ll only gulp it down, and it’s far too early.”

“Now this,” Stephen remarked, scooping up the glass, “is not like you.”

He settled himself in the opposite seat, holding the glass by the stem. He swirled the brandy in the glass, his head tilted to the side like a curious bird.

“Something has happened,” he said. A statement. “Tell me what it is.”

Theo closed his eyes, biting his lip until he tasted copper. Then he began to talk.

The story was a fairly simple one. He began a little earlier in the account, when he and Anna had met that man in the opera. Stephen’s eyes tightened at the mention of him, but he stayed quiet, letting Theo continue.

“She says that she wishes to return home,” Theo said, “but I don’t believe that she will.”

Stephne hummed thoughtfully. “You think not? Why? Is Anna not a woman of her word?”

“Of course she is, but this is her home now.”

“And she believes that?”

Theo pressed his lips together. “She can visit her family if she likes. I’m not keeping her prisoner.”

“No, no, of course not. But this man… wasn’t it agreed that he would stay out of London? Out of your way, specifically?”

A muscle jumped in Theo’s jaw. “Yes, it was.”

“And… and Anna truly does not know? Does she not suspect, even for a moment, that you are not Kitty’s father?”

Theo let his eyes flutter shut. There it was. The words laid out plainly in a way that only Stephen could do.

Stephen had been his confidante, whereas Mrs. Haunt, Timmins, and Martha had found out through other methods.

If Isabella had told anybody, she had kept it to herself.

“No,” Theo managed, at last. “I have told no one. Imagine if such a story got out. If the world found out, Kitty would be ruined. And…” He paused, swallowing. “I don’t want her to think I’m not her papa. And what if that man wants to have something to do with her? I won’t part with my little girl. I don’t care what the law says, only?—”

“Theo, Theo, you are spiraling into a dark place,” Stephen interrupted, holding up a hand. “No law is going to wrest Kitty away from you. And the man was happy enough to stay away, wasn’t he? He has no interest in Kitty. Heavens, he barely had an interest in Isabella!”

Theo flinched at that. He felt restless, wanting to bounce to his feet and pace around, but there were footmen milling around the empty club, cleaning up and returning the chairs to their positions, and it would look odd if he started wandering around.

“I have to see him,” he muttered. “I need to remind him of our arrangement. If he tells Anna…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what would happen.”

“What, do you think Anna would think of Kitty any differently?” Stephen let out a short laugh. “I don’t know the woman as well as you do, but I can say with confidence it wouldn’t affect her feelings towards Kitty. You ought to have a little more faith in people. Where is your trust?”

Theo swallowed hard. “That… that is what she said when we argued. That I didn’t trust her. That she had trusted me with her past and future, and I’d let her down. H-Have I let her down?”

He hated the quiver in his voice, the insecurity. Dukes weren’t insecure. They didn’t stutter and wonder what other people thought of them. And yet here he was, seeking out his closest friend for reassurance.

“You are too hard on yourself,” Stephen said firmly. “Marriage is difficult.”

“How would you know?”

Stephen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I like Anna, Theo.”

“Then you should have married her. One of us had to clean up Henry’s mess, after all.”

“And here I thought you’d sworn not to do that. Could it be that you are a little fonder of your brother than you let us all believe?”

Theo flushed, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “My relationship with my brother is my business and nobody else’s.”

“Hm. Well, my point is, Anna is a very nice woman. And before you point out that nice isn’t really a thing, more like a blank slate on which one might draw a picture?—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Get to the point. I’ve never known anyone jabber like you—Ow!”

Stephen had kicked Theo under the table, and the two men glowered at each other.

“As I was saying,” he continued pointedly, “Anna is clever. She is kind, she is enthusiastic, and—I feel that this is very crucial—she cares deeply for you.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You’re lying,” Theo scoffed.

Stephen sighed. “Why would I lie about that? Theo, I am only telling you what I have observed. I believe that she is falling in love with you.”

Theo leaped to his feet at that, odd stares from the footmen be damned, and paced up and down in front of the table. Stephen, unruffled as always, watched him prowl like a predator. Slowly, thoughtfully, he took out a cigar, lit it, and took a long drag.

Theo wrinkled his nose. “Heavens, man, you know how I hate the smell of those things. They can’t possibly be good for you.”

“Well, I shall stop smoking them one day.”

“Today is a good day.”

“Don’t change the subject. Think about what I’ve said.”

“If Anna is developing feelings for me,” Theo said carefully, “she will only get hurt. We agreed on a marriage of convenience, and it’s the best thing for us all.”

“It is the best thing for you ,” Stephen corrected, “and your desire to keep yourself wrapped up in cotton wool, away from the world. After Isabella?—”

“Don’t, Stephen. I mean it.”

Anybody else would have backed away at the look in Theo’s eyes. He’d seen them do it before, seen their faces change and seen uncertainty flicker in their eyes. Then the backing away came quickly—the change of subject, avoiding eye contact, and so on.

But that was ordinary folk, and this was Stephen. Rather than backing away, Stephen bounced to his feet, coming almost nose-to-nose with his old friend.

“Nobody else will tell you this, so I’ll say it,” he said shortly. “Isabella broke your trust, so you wrapped yourself up and tried to turn your heart to ice. You can’t live like that. You can’t. I know how much it can hurt, how easy it is to distance yourself to avoid further heartbreak, but it will only calcify your heart, mummify you alive. Is that what you want, Theo?”

Theo swallowed hard, his wit deserting him. He opened his mouth, but suddenly there was no sharp retort dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“I… I can’t,” he managed, at last. It was a dragged-out comment and had no relation to the question Stephen had just asked. “I can’t, Stephen.”

Stephen sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t you think Anna deserves the truth? About all of it. All of it.”

There was a long pause between them. A footman passed by, bearing a tray of dirty glasses that really should have been taken away the previous night, and shot them both a curious stare.

Theo’s heart was pounding hard in his chest, his pulse drumming in his ears. He felt ill and giddy, and he tried to tell himself it was because he hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning.

“I… I don’t want to lose her,” he said, and decided not to investigate whether he meant Kitty or Anna.

Stephen nodded slowly as if he understood. “You must do something, Theo. You must.”

“I’ve been thinking, and I’m going to talk to him. You know. Him .”

“I know the man you are speaking of.”

Theo drew in a breath. “I’m going to ask him to leave London once and for all, and promise to stay away from Kitty. I won’t see her ruined. And once that business is concluded, I am going to tell Anna the full story about… about Isabella, and Kitty, and, of course, me. I’ll omit no details. I shall look her in the eye while I speak. I will… be honest with her.”

Somehow, when he said that, the tension left Theo’s shoulders, like shrugging off a heavy weight. He even breathed deeply, feeling as though something that had been wrapped tight around his chest suddenly loosened.

Stephen looked at him for a long moment and then nodded slowly. “That’s good, Theo. You’re a brave man, you know.”

“And a fool.”

“Yes, yes, that too. Theo the Fool.”