Chapter 2

As Lady Theodora and Bankes gave him a tour of Winterheath and its grounds, Maxim could feel his heart sink lower and lower. He had not received the warm, happy welcome he had expected, and the house was not quite the grand palace he remembered. Indeed, the place was in a state of disrepair.

There was a lot of work to be done, and he wondered whether it had always been like that or whether Gideon had let it slip in later years. Perhaps, as a child, Maxim had only seen the gloss that covered what was beneath it, as children so often did. Still, he was here now, and he was determined to make the most of it.

"You've been living here for ten years, I understand?" he said to Lady Theodora as they made their way from the east wing back toward the entrance hall. They were to examine the gardens next, and Maxim only hoped they were in a better state. That would be something, at least.

"That's right," she replied, looking straight ahead. "Ever since my parents died when I was ten-and-four."

"I'm sorry to hear that, my lady. It sounds as if you've truly experienced grief and loss in your life. First your parents and now Uncle… Lord Kingsbury. I admire your ability to carry on in the depths of such sadness."

And you remain so beautiful with it.

"Thank you, but your admiration is not required."

Her gaze flicked to him, as if checking his response, and he allowed himself a small smile. Admiration may not have been required, but she certainly liked it. Everyone did, didn't they? Even if, like Lady Theodora, they hid that fact.

"I understand you've done a sterling job looking after the estate until I arrived," he said, determined to get her to like him. "Thank you for such diligence, it's greatly appreciated."

"Again, your appreciation is not required. I have only done what is necessary to protect my sisters. It is the least I could do for my dearly departed parents, especially after…"

She trailed off, and he could see she was annoyed at herself for having revealed too much. She turned pointedly away, her chin in the air.

"After what?" he pushed. If he could get her to open up, to talk, then just maybe they could become friends. And maybe more.

Lady Theodora let out a loud huff as Bankes pulled open the door. "Nothing. Forget I said anything. But you ought to know this: the protection of my family is the only thing I care about."

He could feel his irritation rise, but he pushed it back down. It seemed that, try as he might, she would not give in—not even slightly. He could sense something warmer beneath her ice-cold exterior, and he couldn't understand why she didn't show it.

"As is quite right," Maxim nodded, following her through the open door. "And I assure you, my lady, that I have your best interests at heart, too. In my new role, I wish to repair the house, of course, but I equally want to help you and your sisters."

Lady Theodora stopped suddenly and spun around on her heels to glare at him. Maxim clenched his teeth together, still refusing to allow her to get to him. He had done all he could to be pleasant, to put her and her sisters at ease. But she seemed hell-bent on making the experience as unpleasant as possible. Beautiful she may have been, but she was equally infuriating and rather petulant to boot.

"And I assure you, Lord Kingsbury, that my family does not accept charity. We are quite capable of looking after ourselves, and if you are hoping to alleviate your soul by doing a good deed or two, do not look toward your new guardianship for inspiration."

Alleviate my soul?

Lady Theodora marched off, her footsteps ringing loudly on the hall's marble floor, and she flung the front doors open herself. Bankes remained motionless for a minute, as if unsure whether to follow her or not, and finally turned to Maxim.

"If you'll excuse me, my lord, I ought to check on our guest."

"Very well, Bankes," Maxim replied, though he had not taken his eyes from the now-empty doorway. "Thank you for showing me around. Do tell Mr. Worthy I won't be long."

The butler bowed, and Maxim followed Lady Theodora out into the garden. His head whirred with thoughts and concerns, not just about the house but about the way she was behaving. Her final words before storming out had set his heart on edge. Had she heard about the scandal he had found himself in a few years previously? It seemed like everyone else had.

He found her at the bottom of the steps, her back to him, her arms crossed around her body. She was almost as beautiful from behind, her body shapely, her gown catching her in just the right places. His eyes lingered on her buttocks for a moment too long before he remembered himself.

I am not that man any longer.

"Lady Theodora, please accept my apologies. That is not at all what I meant."

With a heavy sigh, she turned back to him. For the briefest moment, she looked vulnerable, like a frightened child, and he wanted to take her in his arms and cradle her.

"Do you want to look around the gardens?" she snapped. "If so, let's get it over and done with, shall we? If not, I shall return to my sisters."

Maxim huffed. Perhaps not so vulnerable after all. Indeed, it seemed no matter how charming he was or how polite, she would not reciprocate, and he couldn't handle these sudden switches in her mood.

"Does it really have to be like that?" he pleaded. "Can we not have a pleasant walk through the gardens while you show me what is what? I am here, my lady, whether you like it or not, and it would be far better if we could learn to get along."

"I don't like it. I don't like you, either." She turned sharply and marched away, but before she did, he was certain he caught her gaze linger on his body—his arms in particular. He let himself smirk despite his ire.

"Trust me, my lady—"

"Trust is earned," she called over her shoulder, making him trot to catch up to her. "You have yet to earn it." Her footsteps crunched on the gravel; the air was thick with the sickly scent of roses. And Maxim was full of stirring, confused emotions, from lust to infuriation.

He quite forgot about the gardens, paying them not a lot of attention. Instead, he hurried after Theo, eager to make her understand that he was not the enemy. Quite the opposite, actually—he was secretly enjoying this unspoken game of theirs. But if she continued to treat him in such a manner, he would have to lay down the law. This was, after all, his house now.

"I am sorry you feel that way, my lady, but I'm afraid you fail to understand one simple thing. I am the Earl of Kingsbury now, and you are under my guardianship. I do not wish for this to be an unpleasant experience for any of us, but I likewise will not be treated so poorly in my own home!"

"Your home!" She spun around again, her incredulous words spat out at him. "I've lived here with the remnants of my family for the past ten years, and yet it is your home!"

He closed his eyes, annoyed at himself for his words. Once again, that was not what he had meant. She was scared, evidently. She was worried she would lose her home, and all she had known since her parents had died. Indeed, he had seen glimmers of the beautiful, playful, intelligent woman she was, hidden deep beneath her insecurities and concerns. He had been insensitive, despite all he had told himself before he had arrived.

"It's your home, too, of course," he replied in a softer tone. "But perhaps if we are to live together, then we can find a way to like one another?"

She crossed her arms, her lips pursed again. This time, she openly looked him up and down, and he felt oddly naked, as if she could see through his carefully selected clothes to the man beneath. It made him uncomfortable and yet, strangely, he welcomed it. He urged her to strip him—be it with her eyes or her hands—and to see him for what he was.

"The best I can promise is to tolerate you," she said, her lips pushed together with her determination not to laugh. She looked so much like an annoyed toddler that he, too, had to stop himself from laughing.

"Very well," he said. "That will have to do for the moment. Now, shall we take a look at the kitchen gardens? I always remember them being to the left of the house. Is that correct?"

She nodded, looking at him warily, but she said nothing, only began to walk in the direction of the herb garden. He remained a step behind her, partly to avoid further bickering but partly because he rather enjoyed watching her walk.

He couldn't say he liked her attitude, but there was something about it that he had to admit he enjoyed, especially when coupled with the sight of her body. He'd always been drawn to feisty women, and a little friction, a little tension, was great for getting his blood rushing. How delightful, he thought. It would be to do battle with her in the bedroom.

He felt that familiar desire stir in him, the one that had gotten him into so much trouble in the past, and he trotted to catch up with her. The bickering was far better than slipping back into old habits that he was working so hard to forget.

"Tell me about the gardeners," he said, clearing his throat to clear his mind of excitable thoughts.

"They work very hard." She still studiously avoided looking at him.

He raised his eyebrows at her curt reply. "Anything else?"

"What else do you want to know?"

They cornered the house. The kitchen gardens ran the entire width of the building, each section carefully hedged off. There were herbs, vegetables, fruits. There was even a small section for the medicinal herbs the housekeeper liked to use when someone in the family was feeling unwell.

Maxim fondly remembered running around these gardens as a child, hiding from the cook or teasing his Aunt Anelle. He wished life could be as carefree and joyful now, but his new task was becoming more daunting by the minute.

"Good lord, you are a volatile little thing, aren't you?" he said.

She risked a glance at him. Though she said nothing, he saw that flicker of fire in her eyes again. Volatile was quite correct—and as exciting as it was maddening.

"How many gardeners are there?" he tried.

"Two."

"Two. All right. I'd like to meet them."

Theodora stopped walking and turned to face him, hands on her hips. Again, there was something of the toddler about her—vulnerable and small but also determined and full of self-belief.

"Are you really going to take over everything?" she said. "We coped perfectly well before you arrived. I don't see why you have to charge in now. You're hardly a knight in shining armor—and even if you were, we have no need for you!"

He stared at her incredulously. His heart pinched in sympathy, but couldn't she see just how badly things had been going? How unhappy she evidently was?

"I think the evidence suggests otherwise, my lady," he said. "The house is in disrepair, and your humor is ill. It seems to me that nothing is going perfectly well at all."

"But—"

"And furthermore, it seems to me that you haven't quite grown out of your childhood years," he cried, unable to stop his emotions from pouring out. He was, by nature, a combative man, and though he worked hard to temper it, he could not avoid showing that side of him when he was tested.

She looked him up and down again though it was different this time. Less enticing, more affronted. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean it seems despite the practical skills you may have developed over the years; your social skills remain the same as they probably were when you were ten-and-four!"

Theo let out a cry of offense, a hand flying to her chest as if she had never before heard such terrible words. "How very dare you, my lord? I have worked hard to ensure my sisters get the life they deserve, and, in the meantime, I've been looking after your house!"

"Oh, it's my house now, is it? I will tell you something this instant, my lady, I will not—"

He was cut off by her scream, not at him but at the cascade of water that flew from the upstairs window and landed promptly on her head.

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