Theo was glad he came to dinner. He always liked the Wolvertons, but he was especially glad he got to meet Sarah again. The lady had been hovering in the corners of his mind for months. Maybe seeing her as an ordinary person—not some tragic figure—would get her out of his head.
True, she wasn’t exactly ordinary, Theo thought. She was a little taller than most women, and her head was crowned with thick blond hair likely to reach her waist if it were not bound up so tightly. Theo also noted how her simply cut gown displayed a figure that hinted at ripeness. He wouldn’t want her any slimmer. Her body would probably be luscious to touch. At that thought, he deliberately made himself think of something else. He should not be considering Sarah Brecknell in such a light.
After dinner, the guests idled some more time in the parlor. But as the hour grew later, they left. Lord Carlin was first, content to leave after securing Miss Brecknell’s permission to call upon her at home. Theo watched the exchange without seeming to. Her response was polite rather than effusive, but Carlin seemed quite pleased. Georgia was smug, while Bryony shot Theo a look of disgust.
Miss Brecknell left not terribly long after Carlin. She thanked the Wolvertons for inviting her, and gave a modest little curtsey—not much more than a nod, in fact—to Theo.
“My lord,” she murmured. She did not look at him directly, and he had the odd impression she was trying to fade away.
“Miss Brecknell, I hope to see you again sometime,” he responded.
“It’s possible,” she said, with a ghost of a smile. Then she told the group good evening, and drifted out of the room.
“Well,” said Georgia, still taken with the initial success of her matchmaking. “I think that went perfectly!”
Bryony shook her head. “You can’t seriously contend she’ll fall in love with Carlin. He’s the same age as her father!”
“Oh, you exaggerate. Lord Carlin is a dear, and he ought to marry again.”
“Yes, but not to Miss Brecknell! My lord,” she appealed to Theo, “what is your opinion?”
Theo wanted no part of the debate. “It’s not my place to say.”
“Oh, I wished for better from you.” Bryony pursed her lips in profound disappointment.
“Theo is well aware the world requires practicality,” said Georgia. “Both Miss Brecknell and Lord Carlin ought to marry. She will gain a title, and he’ll get her dowry. And they’ll both have security and friendship. What’s wrong with that?”
“Security and friendship!” Bryony wailed. “How can we be sisters?” She stood up. “Good night, my lord!” She flounced out.
Theo bit back a smile. It must be pleasant to be as sheltered and idealistic as young Bryony. “That is my cue, I fear,” he said. “I should not wear out my welcome.”
“You could not do that, Theo,” Georgia said. “You are the next best thing to a brother, you know.”
“Well, I have a lot of practice,” he allowed. And indeed, with four sisters and a younger brother, that was true.
“Oh, that reminds me,” said Georgia. “Remember a few months ago, you asked whether Charlie left any journals. Well, when I was puttering around this week, I found a few notebooks tucked away with a box of oil paints and brushes in a corner of his room, which I thought was a strange place to keep them. But I put them aside for you. Please take them if you like.”
Theo’s heart quickened. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to return them.”
She waved it away. “No need. I glanced at a few, and it seemed to be mostly nonsense. Charlie was always trying new little hobbies, and I suppose that’s what these were. But I thought them gibberish.”
“Yes,” he said, trying to sound calm. What Georgia considered gibberish might very well be a code. “Charlie always had a new hobby, didn’t he?”
“I’ll say. Last spring and summer it was art collection. I never dreamed Charlie would care about art.”
Theo frowned. In all the years he knew him, Charlie never showed the slightest appreciation for art. “He was collecting art? For pleasure?”
“Or investment,” Georgia said. “I hope so, because none of the pieces were remotely interesting. And the way he hung it all up…just a mishmash. No order at all.”
“Hung up where?”
“Oh, at Woodforde, his lodge. I went there once in September to check on it after Charlie passed away. I’ve never seen such poor taste as on those walls. One doesn’t speak ill of the dead, but he was lucky he couldn’t hear me laugh.”
Georgia walked Theo to the door, where she offered him a small box. “All the journals are in there. I don’t expect you’ll get much out of them. What were you hoping to find?”
“Nothing in particular,” Theo fibbed. “I just wanted to know what he was doing in his last days.”
“You’re more sentimental than you pretend, my lord,” Georgia said, squeezing his arm. “But don’t worry. I’ll never tell.”
“I’m at your mercy, Miss Wolverton.” Theo bid her goodnight. He then saw Jem at the front door, probably just come from the kitchen where he would have stayed with the other servants, keeping warm during the long wait.
“Ready to go, sir?” he asked. “I brought the carriage up a few minutes ago.”
Theo followed Jem out into the cold night, walking through the light dusting of snow which had fallen during dinner.
Jem held the door, then leaped up into the driver’s seat and already had the reins shaken out by the time Theo settled himself. So it happened Jem was already urging the horses forward when Theo first looked across to the other seat. He barely suppressed a curse.
Sarah Brecknell was sitting opposite him, her pale face seeming to float in the air, surrounded by her dark hood and the greater darkness of the carriage.
“Good evening,” she said. “Again.”