Page 75

Theodore smiled as he stood in front of the fireplace in his London home, mulling over the joyful chaos of the past days. The journey back to Town was pleasantly eventful courtesy of the Richmond boys’ rambunctious company. Their laughter and games had filled the carriage, making the miles pass swiftly.

“Are you ready?” A voice behind him asked, soft and gentle. Theodore momentarily closed his eyes and allowed the sound to penetrate the deepest parts of him. His smile deepened, and when he turned, he found the very breath stolen from him as he stared at his wife.

Agnes was dressed in a midnight blue dress with silver embroidery; her eyes were alight, and her grace unmatched. She was as resplendent as the brightest star in the night sky. Theodore could neither move nor say a word.

“If I were not your wife, I would claim that you are seeing me for the first time, Theodore,” she said with a chuckle, her eyes twinkling with mirth and slight apprehension.

“Perhaps I am seeing you for the first time, Lady Gillingham,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as he struggled to remember how to breathe.

Theodore detested his title when his father held it, then he grew to like it when it became his. Now he was proud of it because Agnes bore it. He took her ungloved hand in his and gently dropped a kiss on her knuckles. At his gesture, she turned a delightful shade of pink.

“I have something for you.” He walked over to a table and picked up two velvet boxes. When he returned to her, he set them down on the mantle and opened the first, presenting it to her.

Agnes’ eyes widened, the blue extraordinarily vibrant. She reached into the box, tracing the diamond and sapphire necklace with her fingers. “Theodore, this is beautiful,” she whispered, her gaze never leaving the necklace.

“It belonged to my mother,” he said softly. “I hid them shortly after she died so my father couldn’t sell or gamble them away.” He recalled the broken ribs that resulted from his actions and quickly dismissed the thought.

Agnes raised her eyes to his. “Thank you for protecting such a memory.”

He smiled and walked behind her, unclasping the necklace, and placing it around her neck. When he faced her, his breath was stolen once more.

“How does it look?” she asked.

“Magical.” He turned, opened the second box—a larger one—and presented its content. “Mother loved to wear this to every ball she was invited.”

Agnes gasped. “She wore this in her most beautiful portrait in the gallery.”

Theodore nodded, picking up the diamond and pearl tiara. “May I?” With her approval, he placed the tiara on her head, and it rested on her blonde curls as though it was made for it. It was! He took a step back. “Now, I have no words.”

She laughed. “Oh, you must find them. I cannot have you lost for words.”

Taking her hand, he kissed it again. “Shall we?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

When they arrived at the ball, Theodore watched with a proud smile as their hostess, the Duchess of Preston, swept Agnes into a warm embrace, exclaiming over her attire and jewels.

“You still have the newlywed bliss about you,” Anthony teased him, his voice rich with humor as he clapped Theodore on the shoulder.

“What reason would it have to diminish?” Theodore returned in equal humor, his gaze lingering on Agnes as he watched the women exchange their greetings across the room. Agnes was quite animated tonight, her laughter echoing softly through the grand hall. Her smile filled a part of him with such warmth, it was palpable, warming him through the cool evening air.

“It’s good to have you back. Town has missed you both,” Anthony remarked, his tone genuine, reflecting the sentiment of their social circle.

“You mean the gossip sheets have,” Theodore quipped, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. They laughed together, the sound mingling with the light clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of the gathering.

The first strings of a waltz sounded just then, a melodic invitation that filled the room. Seizing the moment, Theodore approached his wife in her little reunion party. “I’m afraid the orchestra beckons my wife and I to the dance floor, and I’ll have to steal her for a bit,” he announced to the chattering ladies, his tone playfully apologetic.

“By all means. She’s all yours after all,” their hostess, Lady Preston, chuckled, waving them off with a graceful gesture of her fan.

“He’s as poetic as ever,” he heard their other friend, Miss Lovell, whisper to the Duchess as he led Agnes away. Her comment was light, teasing, and carried a hint of admiration.

“They’ll hear you, Emma,” the Duchess hushed her gently, though a smile tugged at her lips.

“Why? It’s a compliment, Frannie,” Miss Lovell returned, her voice carrying a playful defiance.

And Theodore chuckled to himself as they reached the dance floor, the gentle strains of music wrapping around them like a soft embrace.

“You didn’t tell me your friends liked my poetry, Agnes,” he said with a mock frown as they made their way through the crowded ballroom.