Page 27 of Caught By the Ruthless Duke
“He’s wealthy,” he managed. “Well-connected. Everything a lady could want.”
“Everything except substance.” His aunt studied him with unnerving perception. “Tell me, what happened during thosetwo days at Ashmere? And don’t insult my intelligence with protestations of propriety. I know you, Theodore. I know that look.”
“Nothing happened that concerns you.”
“Didn’t it?” She paused delicately. “Lady Norwell mentioned something interesting earlier. About her granddaughter attempting to reach the Whitebrook wedding but being delayed by the weather. How very coincidental that you also left that wedding early, citing urgent estate matters.”
Theodore’s silence was answer enough.
Lady Seymore’s expression softened slightly. “You stopped her from disrupting the ceremony, didn’t you? And then sheltered her during the storm. How very gallant. And complicated.”
“It was nothing.”
“It was something enough to have you watching her like a hawk seeking prey while she discusses wedding plans with another man.” His aunt’s voice dropped. “Theodore, when was the last time you cared about anything beyond duty and estate management? When did you last allow yourself to want something—someone—for yourself?”
“Wanting leads to destruction.” The words emerged flat, final. “You know what my uncle’s desires cost this family.”
“Your uncle was a selfish fool who pursued a married woman.” Lady Seymore’s tone sharpened. “That’s hardly comparable to developing genuine feelings for an unmarried lady who happens to challenge your every assumption about proper behavior.”
Theodore finally looked at her. “She’s engaged to another man.”
“To a man her parents chose without her consent while she was essentially imprisoned at her aunt’s estate.” Lady Seymore raised an eyebrow. “Did you know that? The engagement was arranged without her knowledge. She discovered it through a scandal sheet.”
Icy anger settled in Theodore’s chest. “I am aware.”
“I see. So, you know that Cressida is trapped in an engagement to a man who bores her to tears while a man who might bring her to life is standing across the ballroom pretending not to care.”
Theodore’s gaze returned to Cressida despite himself. She’d extracted herself from Emerton’s grip, her expression carrying that familiar mix of frustration and determination he’d come to recognize during their battles at Ashmere.
“What would you have me do?” he asked quietly.
His aunt’s smile turned decidedly wicked. “Whatever you must, darling. Before it’s too late.”
Chapter Eight
“You stubborn, pompous fool!” Lady Norwell’s voice cut through Bardwell House like a blade, sharp enough that Cressida could hear every word through the locked door of her bedchamber.
She pressed her ear against the wood, her heart hammering.
“Mama, please—” That was Lady Bardwell, her voice pitched high with distress.
“Do not ‘Mama’ me, Jane! You’ve sold your daughter to that preening peacock Emerton without so much as consulting her, and you dare ask me to remain calm?”
Cressida’s fingers gripped the door frame. For three days, she’d been confined to this room. Three days of unanswered letters to Harriet and mounting anxiety that her friend might be suffering in silence.
“The match is advantageous,” her father interjected, his tone suggesting this was the final word on the matter.
Lady Norwell’s laugh was caustic. “Advantageous for whom? Certainly not for Cressida, who has more intelligence in her little finger than Emerton possesses in his entire vapid head!”
The argument continued, her grandmother’s fury a bright counterpoint to her parents’ defensive justifications. Then came a long, terrible silence.
“You’ve made your position clear, Mama,” Lady Bardwell said finally, her voice tight. “Now, if you’ll excuse us?—”
“I will see my granddaughter.Now.”
“She’s indisposed.”
“She’s imprisoned, you mean.” Footsteps approached the stairs. “Stand aside, or I shall cause such a scene that even your precious Emerton will hear of it from across Mayfair.”
