Page 19 of A Wager With A Rake (Wicked Widows #32)

Theodosia

S unlight heated the room as it poured in through the curtains, pulling Theodosia from her deep sleep. The brightness matched her mood after her restful sleep. She wasn’t certain she had ever slept so well, in fact.

She stretched, a satisfied smile playing about her lips as memories of the passionate night she’d spent with Court flooded her mind. The place between her thighs throbbed, hoping they might repeat the act that morning.

Rolling over, she reached out, seeking his skin against hers, but her hand met only cool, rumpled sheets.

Theodosia sat up, glancing around the empty bedchamber with a furrowed brow. Where had Court gone? And without waking her first. Disappointment pricked at her.

With a sigh, she climbed out of his bed and hastily donned the clothing he’d discarded the previous evening. She would return to her own rooms and have her maid assist her in dressing properly in a fresh gown. Then she could seek out Court and…

Heat flooded her cheeks as vivid flashes of skin sliding against skin, breathy moans and cries of ecstasy overwhelmed her senses.

Dear God, she had never experienced such passion, nor had she ever had such a wicked, vulgar exchange as she had with Court.

The intimacy they’d shared had been so much more than physical gratification.

It was as if she had found the piece of herself that had been missing.

At that moment, the startling realization crashed over Theodosia like a tidal wave.

She was in love with Court. Harcourt Eliot, the notorious rake, the Earl of St. Germans, and her best friend’s brother.

And not just some silly schoolgirl infatuation.

Desperately, irrevocably in love. And no longer was she willing to pretend otherwise.

Alone in the empty room, her heart pounding with both elation and trepidation, she knew she must tell him so.

In her past, she had told countless lies and colorful stories to anyone who would listen, and surely she could find the words to tell the most important person in the world how she felt.

And after what they’d shared, she hoped he might feel even a fraction of the same.

He may be a rake, but surely coupling wasn’t that intense with just any pretty face in a skirt for him.

Theodosia hurried out of Court’s bedchamber and down the corridor to her own suite. She rang for Jean as soon as she stepped inside.

“Good morning, my lady.” Jean bobbed a curtsy, her expression tinged with amusement as she took in Theodosia’s disheveled appearance. “I had a feeling I might find you in such a state, given that your bed wasn’t slept in.”

Theodosia’s cheeks burned from embarrassment that surely the entire house knew what had occurred between her and Court.

“If I may say so,” Jean continued. “You deserved a good romp, my lady.”

“Jean!” Theodosia exclaimed, then bit back her laughter. Her maid wasn’t wrong. It was her first time to enjoy coupling with a man and hopefully wouldn’t be her last. With Court, that is.

Her maid merely shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Well, I require your help to dress so I might seek after his lordship.” She cast her maid a knowing glance.

Jean set about her work, and Theodosia stood patiently as her maid stripped and aided in the removal of the previous day’s clothing. She dressed her in a sky-blue morning gown, then styled her dark tresses into a tidy coiffure.

As Jean worked, Theodosia’s mind drifted, reliving each heated touch and passionate kiss from the night before. She wanted that with Court always—that intimacy, understanding, and love. More than fleeting pleasure, she longed for a lifetime with him by her side.

Was it mad? Possibly. He was a notorious rake, and she was the ton ’s gossiping viper. But perhaps that made them perfectly matched. Life would certainly never be dull.

But would he want the same? Icy tendrils of doubt crept along her spine.

She was so impulsive, demanding, often thoughtless.

She had used her body to trick him into entering the wager for her own self-serving needs.

What if Court saw what they shared as something not to be repeated?

A temporary source of sexual gratification for each of them?

Deciding she was ready to face the matter head-on, Theodosia squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, projecting a confidence she didn’t quite feel. She would find Court and lay her heart at his feet, baring her soul for the first time in her life. And she would pray that he felt as she did.

Striding purposefully out of her bedchamber, Theodosia began her search for the man who had somehow become everything to her.

She hadn’t even wanted to marry again, but she knew she could trust Court to ensure she was never treated as cruelly as she had been in her previous marriage.

He would not treat a woman as a business contract or property to control.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Court’s butler, Brown, appeared from the hallway. “Brown, where might I find the earl this morning?”

The elderly servant straightened, his expression unreadable. “His lordship departed Rosewood late last night, my lady. He left something for you, however.” Reaching into his coat, Brown withdrew folded sheets of parchment, her eyes immediately drawn to the wax seal.

“Left something?” Theodosia frowned as she accepted the missive, a sense of foreboding washing over her.

Brown left her by the landing, and she couldn’t convince her feet to move.

Breaking the seal with trembling fingers, she unfolded the letter and read it to herself, her heart shattering in slow motion with each word.

Tess, That you are reading this is proof that I am not a man worthy of any measure of your thoughts or affection.

I have instructed my solicitor to ensure the ownership of Rosewood is transferred into your name.

It is yours, free and clear, to do with as you wish.

I want you to have the security, stability, and happiness that you deserve. Regards, Court

“Regards?” she sneered. Oh, that was rich. The man had her ride his fucking face the night before and the best he could leave her with sounded comparable to penning a damned letter to a man of business?

Theodosia stared at the letter, uncomprehending.

The deed to Rosewood fluttered to the floor, but she barely noticed.

He was gone. Court had left her after everything they had shared.

The realization gave way to a profound sadness, a chasm opening in her very chest. Tears blurred her vision as she crumpled the letter in her fist.

But as swiftly as the despair had come, the searing anger also returned. How dare he creep off in the night like a rat? How could he abandon her without so much as facing her after awakening such hope, and such love, in her heart? The injustice of it all ignited a fury that burned away her tears.

If he thought for a second she would simply accept his words without finding himself burned, then he was sorely mistaken. She would make him and anyone who should encounter her regret she ever thought to love such a miserable man.

Whirling around, she stalked back up the stairs, her mind already churning with plots and schemes.

Perhaps she should return to town and seek entertainment where she could immerse herself in the latest gossip and scandals.

If there was nothing intriguing enough to distract her, she would invent something.

She’d make them all feel as miserable in their lives as she did.

If she couldn’t have happiness, then no one else deserved it either.

Reaching Court’s bedchamber, Theodosia flung open the door and stepped inside, then slammed it shut behind her. The scent of him lingered in the air, and her anger wavered, replaced by a breathtaking longing. Sinking onto his bed, she buried her face in his pillow, inhaling deeply.

She wasn’t certain how she would go on, but she knew she must. Theodosia knew she was a survivor, and she would find a way forward, even if it meant embracing the bitterness that threatened to consume her.

She would become the mistress of Rosewood, envied and feared by all.

If she could endure Dundas as her husband, she could push Court aside.

Her time with him was yet another cruelty life had bestowed upon her, while fate laughed in her face.

And maybe, just maybe, over time, she would distract herself so much in the misery of others that she might forget the man who had shattered her heart and her dreams with a few strokes of his pen.

The next morning, after a night of fitful sleep, Theodosia donned a banyan—one she assumed was Court’s—as she paced the chamber that would become her own. She had barely slept, her mind consumed with thoughts of Court and the future he had ripped away from her. From them.

With a heavy sigh, she rang for Jean and then dressed in silence. Thankfully, Jean knew her well enough that not speaking would be the best course of action. She had already yelled at an innocent maid and immediately regretted her actions.

An hour later, after breaking her fast in the chamber staring at the bed where she’d spent the best night of her life with Court, she descended the steps of the terrace and hurried out of the house to walk the grounds.

The beauty of Rosewood surrounded her, but she found no joy in it.

Instead, a profound sense of emptiness filled her heart.

She had everything she’d told herself she wanted.

Rosewood was hers. She was a widow with her own funds.

She could wreak havoc on society and not give a damn what anyone thought.

And she could invite any man she wished into her bedchamber.

But the thought of being in anyone’s arms but Court’s made her stomach uneasy.

The more she walked, the more she pondered her life.

Memories of her past misdeeds surfaced. The lies she had told, the pain she had caused others from her vicious tongue, the reputations she had ruined.

All in the name of securing her own future.

Or rather, attempting to escape her future.

Perhaps it was the broken heart or the exhaustion from lack of sleep.

But now, faced with the prospect of a life without Court, she saw the hollowness of her past actions.

Perhaps it was her punishment, she realized, her steps slowing.

She had yet to find happiness because she didn’t deserve it.

Her entire life, other than those summers with Rebecca and Court when she had been the truest version of herself, she was constantly plotting and scheming to bring others down, hoping it might somehow alter her future. And where had it gotten her?

Heartbroken and miserable. The perfect night in Court’s arms was meant to torture her. To show her what her life might have been if she hadn’t been so horrid to everyone who crossed her path.

The thought was like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the darkest corners of her soul. She could continue in her typical manner and find herself still miserable at the end, or she could do something foreign to her. Theodosia could own up to the falsehoods and the awful nature of her actions.

It went against her nature—and well beyond the anger and pain she was feeling—and was beyond foreign to her.

She had never asked a single person for forgiveness.

But if she wanted to change and present herself as a person deserving of love and contentment, she would have to make amends for her wrongs.

But what if they didn’t accept her apologies?

She shook off the concern. That wasn’t within her control and it was within their right to laugh in her face, but she owed all of them the apology all the same.

With renewed purpose, Theodosia turned back toward the house, her mind already running back through the list she’d started of those whom she’d wronged.

It would take her several days to accomplish her task and she’d write until her hand cramped, but she’d do what she should have done long ago. She’d let them see the side of herself she’d kept hidden.

The parts that were feeling and longed for acceptance and love.

She’d finally let them see who she truly was.