Only You (27 page)

The new butler was as snooty as he’d been the first day she’d met him.  She hadn’t been apprised of what happened to his predecessor, elderly Mr. Jenkins.  He—and numerous others—had been retired by Mrs. Mountbank so she could bring in her own people, but Theo couldn’t get a straight answer as to whether they’d been pensioned off or simply fired.

“If I may add, Lady Theodosia,” the butler said, “your cousin mentioned there might be some doubt about her being welcome.  She prays you’ll receive her.”

Theo was sitting on the sofa in the front parlor at her father’s town house.  It was a chilly, blustery autumn afternoon, and the fire in the hearth was very hot.

Susan was out on the stoop, anxious to be invited inside.  She was standing just a few feet away.  Was Theo so petty that she would ignore her cousin?  An eternity had passed since they’d quarreled in Cairo.  Why shouldn’t they be cordial? 

Theo spent all her time with Penelope and Mrs. Mountbank, surrounded by servants she didn’t know and who seemed to have been told they could ignore her.  She had no power or authority in the residence, so she ambled around like a ghost.

The sole blessing was that Mrs. Mountbank’s brother-in-law, Bernard, hadn’t yet put in an appearance.  Nor had her father raised the betrothal again, but he wouldn’t have forgotten.

She couldn’t imagine accepting the proposal, and she struggled not to draw attention to herself, so he wouldn’t recollect that she hadn’t yet agreed.  She hoped Bernard Mountbank would arrive and detest her on sight. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said.  “I will see my cousin.”

“Very good, Lady Theodosia.  She also asked me to tell you that she is Mrs. Pinkerton now and not Miss Wallace.  Apparently, there was some reason for her to assume you might not have been informed about the wedding?”

He watched her, his curiosity annoying.  Clearly, he expected she’d supply an indiscreet remark he could share with the staff.  “I’ve been aware of it for ages.”

“Her husband is with her.  Will you see him as well?”

“How nice.  Yes, of course.  Show them both in.”

He went to fetch them, and she stood, listening as he ushered them in.  He offered to take their coats and hats, but they declined, claiming they only intended to stay a few minutes.  Theo couldn’t decide if she was glad or disappointed. 

As they headed for the parlor, she could barely stifle a burst of curiosity.  The notorious Neville Pinkerton was visiting!  His adoration of Susan had sent them fleeing to Egypt to escape him, and although Theo would never admit it, she felt she owed him a great debt.

If
he
had never loved Susan, Theo would never have met and loved Mr. Grey.  The universe definitely worked in mysterious ways!

They bustled in, arm in arm, their noses red from the cold.  They seemed comfortable and companionable, and she had to confess that she was astonished by how striking Mr. Pinkerton was.  He was blond and blue-eyed, his face perfectly formed, like one an artist might paint on an angel on a church ceiling.

In all the stories about him, there’d been none that described him as looking like a Greek god.  No wonder Susan had been smitten. 

“Hello, Theo,” Susan said.

“Hello, Susan.  Or should I say Mrs. Pinkerton?”

“You heard?”

“Yes, from your mother.  She wasn’t very happy about it.”

“We didn’t suppose she would be.”  She turned to her husband.  “Neville, this is my cousin, Theodosia, whom I’ve told you so much about.”

He stepped forward and bowed over Theo’s hand with a flourish that had her smiling.

“Lady Theo,” he said, “I am incredibly honored.”

“Hello, Mr. Pinkerton.”

“You must call me Neville.”

“And you must call me Theo.”

“I will.”  He beamed with pleasure.

She said to him, “May I categorically state that I’m amazed by your audacity in eloping?”

“Yes, I was rather bold, wasn’t I?  I waited until Mrs. Wallace had flown the coop, then I absconded with her pretty little hen.”

But evidently, that was all the attention she’d get from him.  He was already distracted by the paintings on the wall. 

“Well, aren’t these horrid?” he mused to himself.  “Who picks the artwork for the house, Lady Theo?  Is it Lord Wood?  Perhaps I could prepare some pieces to replace these.”

Susan clucked her tongue.  “You’re not giving your paintings away any longer, Neville, remember?  We’re only selling them for money.”

He grinned at Theo.  “My wife is determined to make a businessman out of me.”

“I doubt I’ll succeed,” Susan said.

He wandered into the hall, where the foyer and grand staircase were lined with even more artwork.

“Are you happy, Susan?” Theo asked when he was out of earshot.

“Happy enough—for now.  I’m sure we’ll settle in as time goes by.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will.”

“For the moment, it’s awkward,” Susan confided.  “I was so awful to him before we left for Egypt, so we’re still learning our way together.”

“I didn’t realize you were fond of him.”

Susan leaned nearer and whispered, “I wasn’t.  Or I didn’t recognize that I was.  He’s been very kind.”

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“No, I don’t imagine anyone does.”

Theo thought Susan would expound, but she didn’t.  Instead, she took Theo’s hands in her own and gripped them tightly. 

“I had to tell you how sorry I am for how I treated you in Cairo.”

“Oh.”  It was the last comment Theo had expected, and she had no idea how to reply.  She hadn’t exactly forgiven her cousin, but if Susan wanted to make amends, she would welcome any overture.

“I was despicable to you,” Susan said, “and you needed me to be your friend.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

“I’m trying to improve myself.  I’m trying to grow up and act like an adult.”

“You’re off to a good start.”

“What about you?  How are you?” Susan asked.

“I’m fine I guess.”

“Do you miss Mr. Grey?”  Theo might have denied it, but Susan said, “You can’t fool me, Theo.  I can see it in your eyes.”

“It hasn’t been that long, and I’m getting better.  I’m just a bit
blue
every once in awhile, but mostly I’m better.”

“He never showed up here?”

“No.”  Theo scoffed at the notion, even though she often pondered it.

“I was certain he’d come after you.  When I think of how he always looked at you…well…”

Theo couldn’t bear to talk about Mr. Grey or what might have been.  She hastily changed the subject.  “What about you, Susan?  Whatever became of Mr. Price?  Wasn’t he the man you fancied?”

A hint of despair was there and gone, vanishing so quickly Theo wondered if she’d really observed it.

“He had business in Italy,” Susan breezily said, “so he had to leave Cairo in a hurry.  I’ve had to accept that it wasn’t meant to be.”

They were still holding hands, and Theo sensed an entire story churning below the surface.  Susan didn’t seem inclined to share any of it or perhaps it was too painful to share.  Perhaps she was in the same boat as Theo and unable or unwilling to reflect on what had occurred in the exotic land.

“What now, Susan?” she asked.  “Will you stay in London or what?”

“Yes, Neville has obtained a patron.  Lady Henley?”

“I’ve met her.  I like her very much.” 

“So we have an income, and it’s enough to move to a bigger apartment.  That’s my initial chore, to find us a place to live.  It has to have lots of windows for Neville.  Nothing extravagant, mind you, just lots of light.”

“Aunt Edna won’t help you financially?”

“No, there’s no chance of that.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“No, we just arrived from Scotland, and we stopped here first.  As I turn over all my new leaves, I wanted to begin with you.”

“I’m glad.”

“What about you, Theo?  Have you any plans?”

“My father married while we were away.”

“Oh, dear.”

“It’s been a challenge.”

“I can imagine.”  Susan leaned in again.  “Do you like his bride?  What’s she like?”

“It’s complicated,” Theo murmured.  “I don’t belong here anymore.”

“A wife has usurped your spot!  How dreadful for you!”

“Her mother is actually the one who’s usurped it.  It’s all a tad bewildering and unpleasant.”

“Her mother?”

“His bride is very young, so her mother has taken charge.”

Susan appeared very shocked.  “My goodness.”

“And since Lord Wood has wed, he is hoping I will wed too.  In fact, he’s demanding it.”

“You’re hardly ready for a husband, are you?”

“My fiancé hasn’t shown up yet, so I haven’t had to make a decision.”

Susan gasped.  “Your betrothal is official?”

“My father is at the blustering stage, but I believe it will be coming very soon.”

Lord Wood wasn’t blustering though.  He expected her to marry Bernard Mountbank at a Christmas wedding.  Theo knew there had to be an odd angle to the betrothal she didn’t understand.  Was it about money?  It had to be about money.  There was no other reason her father would arrange it, but Theo didn’t have a dowry, so she couldn’t unravel the convoluted knot of what was transpiring.

Just then, Penelope burst in like a whirlwind, her bulging stomach proudly leading the way.  She was dragging Neville by the arm.

“Look who I found, Theo!” she gushed.  “Isn’t he cute?  He’s like a puppy!  He says he’s a painter.  Should I pose for him?  I’d like to have a huge portrait of me hanging over the fireplace.”

“That’s a splendid idea,” Theo told her, and she spun to Susan.  “Susan, this is my stepmother, Penelope.”  Susan’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.  “Penelope, this is my cousin, Susan Pinkerton, and you’ve met her husband, Neville.”

“You must both address me as Lady Wood.”  Penelope paused, then frowned.  “Aren’t you the two who eloped?  Honestly, I’ve never chatted with such scandalous people before.  If Mother learns you stopped by, she will have an absolute apoplexy.  Theo, I realize Mrs. Pinkerton is your cousin, but
I
am Lady Wood, and I can’t associate with such a disreputable pair.  They should go immediately.”

“Yes, probably,” Theo agreed.

She herded Susan and Neville to the foyer.  From the parlor, Penelope called, “Theo, would it be wrong for Mr. Pinkerton to paint me?  He’s so handsome, and it would be amusing to spend time with him.  We could pretend we’re not aware of who he actually is.  Could we hide his identity from Mother?”

“I don’t think so, Penelope.”

They were at the door, the butler opening it so they could exit.

“Oh, my Lord,” Susan mouthed, and Neville peeked back at Penelope as if he couldn’t quite figure out who she was.

“You oughtn’t to visit me again,” Theo said, “at least until matters with Father are more settled.  Lady Wood is correct that her mother wouldn’t like you to be here.”

“After we’ve moved, I’ll host a party,” Susan said.  “I’ll send you an invitation.”

“I’d like that.”

Susan linked their fingers and squeezed them tight.  “Stay calm and try to muddle through.  Things will get better.  I’m sure of it.”

“They couldn’t get worse,” Theo muttered in reply.

Even though they were whispering, the butler must have heard it all, but she didn’t care.  He could tattle to Mrs. Mountbank.  He could shout the details of their conversation from the rooftops.  Anymore, she did not, did not, did
not
care about anything.

“Goodbye,” Susan said.

“Goodbye.”

“I’ll keep you apprised of where I am—in case you need me.”

“I appreciate it.”

“If I can help, let me know.”

“I’ll survive this, Susan.  Truly, I will.”

Her sad expression must have belied the comment, and for a moment Susan looked as if she’d argue the point, but merciful blessings, she didn’t.

Her husband ushered her out into the cold afternoon.  The butler closed the door after them, and instantly Theo felt as if she were suffocating in the dreary, dim house.

T
heo stood on the
verandah at the back of her father’s town house.  She’d snuck outside, desperate to find some peace and quiet.

Mrs. Mountbank was hosting another of her glamorous parties, and raucous laughter wafted by.  Musicians were tuning their instruments, and dancing would soon begin. 

Her father wasn’t present, but no one seemed to notice or mind.

Supposedly, he was off at a gambling club and would return later, presumably after he’d lost the last of his money, then he’d start in on Penelope’s.  Theo wondered how long it would take him to burn through all of it. 

Penelope’s father had been a rich brewer in York, her dowry stupendously large, and the widowed Mrs. Mountbank had used that fortune to wrangle a spot for her daughter in London’s aristocratic high society.  They loved to entertain so the residence was constantly filled to the brim with visitors. 

Since Theo had come to the city from Oakwood, there hadn’t been a single evening where there wasn’t a lavish fete.  After having grown up in a very quiet world, this new one was loud, hectic, and too busy for her tastes.  It was also ridiculously expensive.

Surely it wasn’t wise to overspend in such a copious fashion.  If the money ran out, where would they all be?

Theo tried not to be snotty about it—it wasn’t any of her business really—but she couldn’t stop herself from calculating the cost of things:  the dozens of extra servants, their uniforms and salaries, the food, wine, candles, and all the rest.  

Every night, Mrs. Mountbank and Penelope arrived downstairs in fabulous gowns, ornate jewelry, and elaborate tiaras.  Despite Penelope’s advanced condition, she was allowed to participate—as if Mrs. Mountbank was flaunting the girl’s fertility to prove Lord Wood had been shrewd in selecting her.

 Though Theo was a baron’s daughter, she couldn’t imagine wallowing in such ostentation.  Yes, her father was a nobleman, but they’d never been wealthy, and he’d certainly never been inclined to waste funds on fripperies.

Were there any limits to Mrs. Mountbank’s excesses?  Apparently not.

A man approached, and she hid a grimace.  She couldn’t endure another tedious chat with a stranger about how lovely Penelope was or what a gracious hostess Mrs. Mountbank was.

When those conversations commenced, she gritted her teeth and agreed with every comment, counting the minutes until the person had offered sufficient inanities that they moved on.

“What a horrid crush,” the man said.  “May I tarry on the verandah with you?  Please don’t deny me this favor.  If you force me back into that parlor, I’ll likely suffocate on all that hot air.”

“It is stuffy in there,” she carefully said.

“Well, when you fill a house with buffoons, what can you expect?”

She was stunned by the blunt remark.  With Mrs. Mountbank so new to society, people were feeling their way around her, trying to decide if she would end up impressive and respected or not.  In case she turned out to have staying power, no one would insult her just yet.

“You’re welcome to dawdle with me,” she told him.

“Thank you.  You’re an angel.”

“Hardly that, but I won’t send you inside when it’s clearly such a trial for you.”

They were over by the balustrade, and as he leaned his hips against the rail, she surreptitiously studied him.

He was older than she was, probably mid-forties.  He was tall and slim, not displaying the belly that most men his age acquired.  In fact, he reminded her of Preston Price, being handsome and charming and urbane, but without the dodgy character.

He still had all his hair, and it was a salt-and-pepper gray, his eyes brown.  He had a grand mustachio that she’d term extravagant, but it gave him an intriguing appearance that made her want to know more about him.  He seemed amused by life and humored by its absurdities.

“I’m Theodosia Postlewaite.”  She was brazen to introduce herself, but she’d never been one to stand on form.  “Lord Wood is my father.  This is our home.”

On hearing her name, he blanched.  “
You
are Lady Theo?”

“Yes?”  She said it in question, a bit unnerved by his reaction.

“Aren’t you pretty as a picture?”

“And aren’t you a flatterer?”

“Not usually, but occasionally flowery speech just bursts out of me.”  He pushed himself off the rail to bow over her hand.  “I am Bernard Mountbank.”

“
You
are Mr. Mountbank?”

“Yes.  I’m delighted to meet you.”

“Ah…ah…yes, I’m delighted too,” she managed to choke out, and her tepid response had him laughing.

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It’s nothing like that,” she hastily claimed.

“Let me guess:  Isobel has filled your head with wild stories about me.”

“Perhaps a few.”

He grinned.  “She would.  She’s always been too set on herself by half.”

“Yes, she’s a tad…proud.”

“
Proud
doesn’t begin to describe her.”

“You know her well?”

“She was married to my brother for twenty years, so I can’t help but know her.”

“It must have been an
interesting
time for your family.”

“Ha!” he snorted.  “That’s putting it mildly, Lady Theo.  Some evening when I’ve had too much to drink, I’ll tell you all the scandalous tales about her.”

“Will they shock my tender ears?”

“Yes, but I’m betting you’re made of stern stuff.  I’m sure you’ll hold up.”

“Yes, I’m sure I will,” she agreed.

“What do you think of Penelope?”  Before Theo could devise a suitably vague reply, he said, “My brother was a brilliant, funny fellow.  She’s such a fickle nuisance that I’ve frequently wondered if he could possibly have been her father.”

“Mr. Mountbank!”  Theo gasped in astonishment.  “You shouldn’t be quite so forthcoming.  You’re not from London, are you?  It’s a spiteful place.  You have to be cautious about spreading rumors.  They disseminate like wildfire.”

“I wouldn’t rush into the foyer and expound on it, but I figured you’d enjoy my opinion.  Haven’t you been living with them for several weeks?”

“Yes, it’s been almost two months.”

“Your father hasn’t threatened to kick them out yet?  He hasn’t threatened to divorce my niece?”

“He’s not here very often.”

“Smart man.  They drove my poor brother to distraction.”

“You have an odd view of the world, Mr. Mountbank.”

“I have a realistic view.”

“Maybe,” Theo allowed.

They were silent for awhile, staring into the house.  They could see the first set of dancers through the windows, and it was pleasing to watch them twirling past.

“May I be frank with you, Lady Theo?” he eventually said.

“More than you already have been?”

“Yes.  I like you.”

“Well!  That’s definitely being very frank.”

“I’d like us to be friends.”

“I hope we can be.  We’re related all of a sudden.”

“You’re aware why Isobel dragged me down to London.  She’s plotting where we’re concerned.”

Theo peeked over at him.  “You mean about a betrothal between us?”

“Yes.  I couldn’t believe she raised the issue before you’d even met me.  You must have thought we were both deranged.”

“I did find it a bit peculiar.”

“
Peculiar
is the perfect word.  The woman’s mad as a hatter.  You and I are strangers, and I’m so much older than you.  Why would you consider me?  You deserve someone your own age who can match your verve and energy.”

“You don’t exactly appear to be in your dotage, Mr. Mountbank.”

“When Isobel initially proposed the idea, I told her that you’d refuse, and she was insane to suggest it.”

“It’s not
you
, Mr. Mountbank.  It’s not personal.  As you mentioned, we’re strangers, so I really haven’t a clue whether you’re husbandly material or not.  I’m simply not in the mood to wed.  Not you or anyone.”

“Isobel said you’d recently had your heart broken.”

Theo sighed with exasperation.  “I wish Mrs. Mountbank would learn to mind her own business.”

“She’s never been able to keep her mouth shut.”  He peered over at her.  “Was she telling me the truth?  Was your heart broken?”

Theo saw no reason to deny it.  “Yes.  Yes, it was.”

“You’re still recovering from the experience.”

“I don’t know if
recovering
is the correct term, but I’ve been a little despondent over what might have been.”  She didn’t want to talk about her melancholia, for it made her think of Mr. Grey when she was determined never to think of him at all.  “What about you, Mr. Mountbank?  Are you interested in marrying?  I’m supposing you are.”

“I’ve been a widower for many years.  I married when I was eighteen, and my wife died in childbirth.  The notion didn’t appeal much after that.”

“You have no children?”

“No, and—as Isobel constantly nags—I should get some.  I’m older now though, so I’m forced to introduce myself to younger and younger ladies, which has been a chore.  I don’t have much in common with girls, but Isobel claimed you were very mature and wouldn’t annoy me, so I agreed to come down.”

Theo snorted at that.  When Mrs. Mountbank and her father had hatched their scheme, Mrs. Mountbank hadn’t met Theo so she would have had to rely on her father’s description.  He’d never have deemed Theo to be
mature
.  He found her to be flighty and infuriating.

“Am I annoying?” she teasingly asked him.  “Now that we’ve chatted, what is your opinion?”

“You haven’t annoyed me—yet!”

“Marvelous.”

“But there’s still plenty of time.”

He was smiling, looking dapper and happy, and she was surprised that she wasn’t repulsed by him.  With her disliking Mrs. Mountbank so much, she’d assumed her brother-in-law would be horrid, but he was actually quite a fine fellow.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“About what?”

“About us.”

“Us!  There is no
us
.”

“I mean about Isobel pushing us together.  She insists we’re a perfect match.”

“My father has informed me that it’s a completed deal.”

“Your father said that?  I’ve never even discussed the subject with him.  It’s awfully bold of him to presume I’d proceed without my laying eyes on you.  You’re very pretty, but honestly!  A man ought to have some choice in the matter.”

“Absolutely.  The woman too.”

“Isobel can be relentless, so I’d like to get her off my back.”

“And I would like my father off mine.”

“So here is what I recommend.  I’ll be in London for a month.”

“I will enjoy making your acquaintance,” Theo sincerely replied.

“We’ll become friends.  We’ll dine out and attend the theater.  We’ll tour the museums and the palaces.  I haven’t been to the city in fifteen years.  We’ll sightsee.”

“That would be very fun.  I’ve hardly been out of the house since I arrived.”

“We’ll socialize so we can decide if we like each other.  We won’t let Isobel or your father pressure us.”

“All right.”

“When I’m ready to return to York, we’ll confer about a betrothal again, but it will be up to
us. 
Not them.  If in thirty days, you tell me you’re not interested, or if I discover you’re not the girl for me, we’ll both totally understand.  How does that sound?”

Theo deemed it the ideal solution to buy herself some breathing room.  She wasn’t about to wed Mr. Mountbank.  She wasn’t
ever
going to wed.  Especially not after Mr. Grey had shown her the intimacies required between spouses.

She would never participate in the marital act again.  After doing it with Soloman Grey, she couldn’t imagine doing it with another man.

“Your plan is very sensible,” she said.  “Are you sure you’re related to Mrs. Mountbank?”

“Just by marriage.  It’s the only connection I’ll allow her to claim.”

Theo chuckled.  “I believe the next month will be very pleasant.”

“I believe it will be too.  Let’s start exploring the museums tomorrow.  You can pick where you’d like to tour first.”

“I will spend all night fussing about it.”

“May I call on you at eleven?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

He smiled, bowed, then went inside.

She shrugged, nervous over what she’d set in motion and praying it would be as amusing as she was hoping.  She could definitely use a friend.  Would Mr. Mountbank truly be one?  She’d be so disappointed if he wasn’t.

“Well, darling, what is
your opinion of her?”

Isobel Mountbank casually took Bernard’s arm and maneuvered him into a corner where they could have a private conversation.

“She’ll do,” he murmured.

“She’s very fetching, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very fetching.  You weren’t lying about that at least.”

“She’ll suit your purposes.”

“I suppose.”

“When is the wedding to be?” Isobel asked.  “We’d like it accomplished by Christmas, but you’re welcome to elope with her if you’d like it over with sooner.  Her father wouldn’t mind.”

“We didn’t discuss the wedding.”

“But Harold and I are in a hurry about it,” she groused.  “And
you
certainly need to rush.  Any delay is courting disaster.”