Chapter Six

After their honeymoon, during which they rather modestly toured the Lake District, Theo and Nathanial returned to London to take up their position at the front of Society's ton . Nathanial had, of course, procured Almack's vouchers, and they reached that hallowed establishment for ten o'clock on the second evening of their return.

Theo had been to Almack's several times over the course of her debut. She had, however, never once entered on the arm of a duke, and it transpired that made the situation entirely different.

For a start, she was announced as Her Grace, The Duchess of Norfolk, a title that seemed altogether too stately for her. Then, as though that in itself wasn't enough, she found herself the subject of every person's stare. Whispers erupted from behind fans and under bobbing curls.

Nathanial, to her relief, steered her across the packed room to his sister, Elinor's, side. She didn't look especially interested in spreading rumours, and instead waved her fan at them. " Theodosia," she said. "Nathanial, I'm almost surprised you came—I haven't seen you at Almack's in an age."

"I usually find the entertainment somewhat wanting," he said languidly. "But I thought I ought to accompany my wife, seeing as we are so recently back from our honeymoon."

"How generous of you," Theo muttered.

"And because," Elinor said, a little too pointedly, "you are so madly in love, of course."

"Ah." Nathanial's voice was quiet, and Theo pinched his arm for having made such a stupid, infernal claim to both their families. By the scepticism in Elinor's voice, she didn't believe it for a moment, anyway. "Yes. Of course."

"I suppose you can hardly bear to be apart," Elinor continued, an eyebrow slightly raised. The resemblance between her and Nathanial was even greater when she did that. "I remember when I married my dear Robert, I was the same."

"Absolutely," Nathanial said dryly. "As you can see, we are joined at the hip. Theo, dance with me?"

If any other man had asked her with such abruptness, she would have been tempted to refuse, but Nathanial was her husband and they were supposed to be in love. It was extremely irritating.

Sometimes, at moments like these, she remembered the moment between them on their wedding night. The thickness of the air, and the way he had looked at her. But since then, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They had dined together, travelled together, and Nathanial had not so much as alluded to it.

Theo was starting to believe it was a dream.

"You are rude," she scolded as he led her to the forming couples.

His lips twitched. "It is becoming abundantly clear I am destined to be a great disappointment to you."

"You're laughing at me. "

"I wouldn't dream of it. I have an excellent sense of self-preservation."

"You're abominable," she informed him.

"That's right." He steered her expertly through the dance, his hand ghosting over hers, the touch so delicate she might have almost imagined it. "No, don't tuck in your lip. You're exceptionally charming when you jut it at me."

"I hate you."

"Quite so."

The amusement lurking in his eyes drew a laugh from her. "As payback, I must dance with several extremely personable gentlemen to make you jealous."

"A jealous husband?" he said with a lopsided smile. "Surely not."

"You must pretend to be, you know. Otherwise how else will people believe we're in love?"

His smile widened. "Of course. How else?"

"And, to be sure, I will flirt with them shockingly ."

"I should expect nothing less," he said, and although she knew he was teasing—their entire conversation had been in jest—she felt just the flicker of disappointment as the dance ended and he bowed over her hand.

He did not kiss it as a true romantic gentleman ought to have done.

Of course, he was not a true romantic gentleman; he was her husband. The two were, in her mind, entirely different. What she needed to do was find a gentleman who might be persuaded to fill that role.

With that thought in mind, she went in search of her next partner.

And thus the evening passed. She danced with any number of young men, but to her disappointment, none were up to snuff. Most, aside from the truly awkward, were amenable to light flirtation, but that was not enough for Theo. Nathanial, when he was in the mood for it, could flirt; she knew from him how little flirtation meant. Besides, none quite fit her idea of what a true hero should be.

As night turned into early morning, Theo resigned herself to failure once again.

That was, until she beheld the gentleman that emerged from the card room.

He was tall—taller than Nathanial and indeed most other gentlemen in the ballroom—with dark hair swept with careless grace across his forehead. The lighting wasn't bright enough to see the precise colour of his eyes, but she felt certain they would be a dreamy dark; a colour she could sink her entire soul into.

What's more, he was dressed in the height of fashion. Not as a dandy, whose aspirations towards fashion she held in the deepest contempt, but as a Corinthian. His coat was perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders, his buttons were highly polished, and his breeches clasped shapely calves.

He was, in short, her every romantic ideal.

She fluttered her fan, hardly listening to Lady Tabitha, who stood beside her and jabbered about beaus. Perhaps, if she was lucky, the strange man would approach her.

He glanced up and met her gaze from across the room. The world stilled and her sense of being shifted, as though gravity drew her towards him. This was what love should feel like: an undeniable connection that almost shimmered in the air between them.

Heavens, she ought to have met him before she married Nathanial.

Suddenly aware she'd been holding his gaze for far too long, she glanced away.

"And so I told him that I couldn't possibly consider his suit," Lady Tabitha continued beside her, oblivious to the fact Theo's attention was fixed on the man who strolled deliberately towards them .

Oh, he was so close now he could probably hear what Lady Tabitha was saying.

Theo's heart in her mouth, she did her best to attend the final part of Tabitha's monologue. "After all," Tabitha said triumphantly, "he is merely the son of the local squire, and I am the daughter of a Viscount."

"Yes," Theo murmured, glancing over her fan to where the man had stopped, one group from her. Men were such odious creatures—after walking towards her with such deliberation, he ought to have found an excuse to be introduced. Instead, he was talking with Lady Bolton with every appearance of absorption.

"Come," she said to Tabitha, linking that lady's arm firmly with hers. "Penelope is not dancing and I've yet to speak with her."

"Lady Peterborough?" Tabitha clarified, her earlier superiority dissolving. "You're on first-name terms with Lady Peterborough?"

"We grew up on neighbouring estates." Theo dragged Tabitha through the crowd towards Penelope, her path coincidentally taking her past the man. "She is ten years older than me, to be sure, but I know her well. Besides, now I've married the Duke, she's my sister-in-law."

"Theo," Penelope said affectionately when they arrived, kissing Theo's cheek. "How nice to see you." Her voice, unlike Elinor's, was sincere. Elinor had married before Theo was out of leading strings, but Penelope had been a fixture of Theo's early childhood, and the only one of Nathanial's sisters who approved of the match. "What a crush! I declare I've never seen Almack's so crowded."

The man, who had looked up as Theo passed, now stared at her with a look of calculating surprise. Perhaps now he would approach .

"I've not seen so many gentlemen here all Season," Lady Tabitha gushed. "Which is just as well—I find nothing is quite as much fun without gentlemen, don't you?"

"Tabitha," Theo said in exasperation, "do you think of nothing but beaus?"

"You're married ," Tabitha said as though it were obvious. "Of course you don't have to consider how many gentlemen are present, or how many you dance with."

"I've not been married long."

"But you snagged a duke." Tabitha sighed dreamily. "There are so few unattached dukes, you know—and none so handsome as the Duke of Norfolk."

Theo started to dispute that, before stopping. As far as Penelope—in fact, as far as the ton —was concerned, she was in love with Nathanial, and was no doubt obligated to think him the most handsome man in the room.

Starved of that option, she looked at Penelope, in the hopes Penelope might support her, but she found Penelope staring over her shoulder with a look of disgust and—was that fear?

"Lady Penelope," a smooth voice said from behind them. It reminded her of honey, with a bite of pepper underneath. "What a pleasure to see you here."

"I'm Lady Peterborough now," Penelope said, pinching her lips together.

"Then allow me to present my congratulations."

Theo turned, already knowing who she would see. And there he was: the man she'd seen from across the room in all his dark-haired beauty. Up close, he was perhaps more handsome than she'd imagined, with a straight nose and green flecks in his brown eyes. She judged him to be perhaps thirty, and his smile, when he turned it on her, was enough to melt her knees.

"I do not believe we've been introduced," he said, raising his eyebrows at Penelope. "I find you to be keeping excellent company this time we meet, Cousin. "

Cousin? A frown puckered Theo's brow. She hadn't been aware of any cousins in Nathanial's family—and certainly none of this calibre. All she had were female cousins, and she had never felt the deprivation so keenly.

"This is the Duchess of Norfolk," Penelope said pointedly. "Nathanial's bride."

"Then it appears I have two sets of congratulations to offer." He raised her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Duchess."

"Theo, meet Sir Montague Radcliffe," Penelope said. "Our cousin."

"It appears I arrived back in England at the right time," he said, his eyes never leaving Theo's.

"This is Lady Tabitha," Theo said. Her voice was slightly breathless.

"A pleasure," Sir Montague said, bowing over Lady Tabitha's hand. He glanced back up and his gaze found Theo's again. "Might I have the pleasure of this dance, Duchess?"

She glanced at Penelope, but Penelope was too engaged in looking across the room at her sisters and Nathanial, and so she accepted with a smile.

"I see you have the fortune to have married into the family," he said as he led her out onto the dancefloor. "Once again, allow me to offer my congratulations. I shall be certain to congratulate my cousin—I had not thought him capable of so dazzling a match."

"I'm not dazzling at all," Theo told him bluntly, drawing a surprised, genuine smile from him. "Quite the contrary, in fact. I'm surprised no one has mentioned it."

"They have not, and if they did so, I would tell them how wrong they are."

He really was an excellent flirt. How fortunate she had met him. "I'm much obliged."

"Lady Peterborough called you Theo," he said, his hand fitting into hers. She had never noticed how charged a touch could be, tingling through her body from the point of contact. "What must I do to gain such familiarity?"

A dangerous question. "I was unaware they had a cousin," she said instead.

To her relief, he laughed, unconcerned by her clumsy redirection. "Keeping me a secret, are they? The truth is, I'm the black sheep of the family."

Theo had suspected that from the look on Penelope's face. "Is it for good reason?"

"Your Nathanial would say so."

"He's not my Nathanial," she retorted before she could help herself. She coloured. "That is to say . . . We are not joined at the hip."

"It appears not—to my benefit."

She looked up at his captivating, slightly mocking smile. Nathanial smiled like that, sometimes, when he thought she was being particularly amusing or silly. "Are you so pleased to dance with me?"

"I resolved to ask you to dance the moment I laid eyes on you."

Oh, he was charming, and far more so than Nathanial. It would have been all too easy to release her inhibitions and allow herself to enjoy the pleasure of his company, but Penelope's expression stuck with her.

"Sir Montague," she said, cocking her head. "May I ask you a question?"

"With pleasure."

"Will I get into trouble for dancing with you?"

"Why?" He laughed, but his eyes were curious. "Is the Duke such a fearsome husband?"

"Oh no," she reassured him. "We have a comfortable arrangement, he and I. But I wondered if—you see, I am fond of Penelope, and she doesn't like you. "

His eyes hardened for an instant before he laughed again. "You are amazingly direct, Duchess. No, don't blush—you are quite right: Penelope does not like me."

"But why?"

"There are several reasons, and now I have returned to town, I expect you will be regaled with them." He considered her. "Have you been married long?"

"Not long."

"Then perhaps you will remember what it is to hold someone in affection. I confess, I behaved badly towards Penelope when I was younger, and I see she has not yet forgiven me—despite a husband." He smiled. "I have been away from London a great many years, you see."

"Did you leave because of Penelope?" she pressed.

"Heavens no. I left because I took part in an ill-conceived duel."

Not only was he a rake—her suspicions of that were confirmed by his admission he had treated Penelope badly—but he was a man inclined to duelling. "Was the other man killed?"

"Sadly, yes."

She blinked in shock. She had never encountered a murderer before, no matter how accidental it may or may not have been. Did he suffer from guilt? He certainly didn't seem to—his skin was lightly bronzed and he regarded her with a mocking smile, as though he sensed the thoughts that passed through her head.

"Well," she said, struggling to find the right thing to say, if there was a right thing to say. "I'm sure you must be very sorry."

"I beg you would not attempt to attribute any morals to me. As my family will no doubt inform you, I am irredeemable and my character is sadly flawed."

"Well, perhaps you have not killed any more men since you left," she ventured .

Another surprised laugh left him. "No, I have not killed any men since then."

Ought she congratulate him on his forbearance? That didn't quite seem right, but then, neither did suggesting that his lack of recent murderous tendencies made him an upstanding member of society.

In truth, the frisson of danger that accompanied him intrigued her.

The music ended and the gong rang for the evening's supper. Sir Montague offered her his arm, which she would have taken if it were not for the cold voice behind her.

"Duchess," Nathanial said. His eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn't place. "I believe the honour is mine."

"Nathanial." Blushing, confused by both his expression and the commanding note in his voice, Theo accepted his arm. "I believe you are already acquainted with your cousin, Sir Montague."

Excellent work stating the obvious .

She blushed, wishing her shame did not creep so high up her neck to her cheeks. Nathanial glanced at her, taking in her blush, before returning his gaze to Sir Montague. "I am," Nathanial said curtly.

Sir Montague bowed, his gaze never leaving Nathanial's face. "And so we meet again, cousin."

Nathanial inclined his head and glanced down at Theo. "Shall we go in, my love?"

He only called her ‘my love' when he was pretending they were affectionately married, but for the strangest reason, she didn't want to pretend in front of Sir Montague.

"Really, Nathanial," she scolded under her breath as they entered the dining room. "When I said you should play the jealous husband, this was not what I meant."

"What better time than when you were flirting so brazenly with another man?"

There was a hard note in his voice that compelled her to snap, "I was not flirting so very much. Certainly no more than with any other gentleman."

"I would beg to disagree. And so, I would surmise, would the entire ballroom."

So this was to be their first argument, and over a man she had met but once and very briefly. In a place, moreover, where anyone could see them. Theo's stomach roiled and she felt too hot. Her smile slipped. "This conversation should not take place here," she said.

"Then you shall be certain I shall address it at home."

Home. That cavernous place in which she now lived, its halls filled with servants waiting for her command. It felt no more like home than this ballroom, where instead of a mistress, she was a glittering ornament.

To her relief, Nathanial appeared to relax as he greeted a mutual acquaintance. She allowed him to lead her to her seat and the rest of the night passed in a blur. Nathanial played the role of young husband with his customary careless charm, and if Theo noticed the fury in his eyes that surfaced whenever he glanced at Sir Montague, no one else appeared to.

He did not leave her side for the remainder of the evening.