Page 25 of My Lord Rogue

She avoided the public rooms and the company of Verity, who was consumed with orchestrating a croquet match for the afternoon. Theo had become, over the course of years, an expert at hiding in plain sight, and it was with this expertise that she managed to pass the day, a ghost at the luncheon table, a whisper in the corridor, an absence so perfectly rendered that not even the house staff remarked upon it.

But when night came, the mask began to slip.

She did not intend to seek out the library again. She had convinced herself that it was merely coincidence, that Teddy would not return to the same well two nights running. Yet as the lamps were dimmed and the last of the laughter receded up the staircase, Theo found herself at her door, hand on the knob, uncertain whether she was escaping or inviting pursuit.

The hallway was silent, a single candle left burning for late-night stragglers. She moved with caution, hugging the wall as if the paneling might swallow her up. At the base of the stairs, she paused, heart pounding at a mad tempo. A shadow flitted across the landing, a footman, perhaps, or only the play of light on old glass. She pressed on.

The library door stood open a crack, a wedge of golden lamplight spilling into the hall. She should have turned back. Instead, she pushed the door wider, its weight familiar now, almost welcome. Inside, the fire was banked higher than before, its warmth spilling into the farthest corners. Teddy was there, of course, exactly as she knew he would be.

This time, he had abandoned the pretense of reading altogether. The book in his lap was open to the title page, its text obscured by the shadow of his hand. His coat was off, his shirt open at the throat, a softness at the line of his jaw that spoke of fatigue—or something more dangerous.

He did not speak at first, only watched her with an expression unreadable and unguarded. She closed the door behind her, the sound loud as a gunshot.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, voice low.

Theo crossed to the fireplace, clutching her arms around herself. “Neither was I.”

He gestured to the same chair as before. “Please.”

She sat, folding herself small, knees drawn up so her slippers barely touched the rug. The wrapper she wore was even thinner tonight, and she could feel the heat of the flames on her bare ankles.

They waited, letting the silence have its moment.

At length, Teddy set his book aside and leaned in, elbows on knees. “You must know,” he said, “that everyone in this house is trying to decide whether to believe the story.”

Theo stared at her hands, the fingers white and restless. “Which story?”

“That we are lovers.”

Her laugh was brief, an exhalation of disbelief. “Are we?”

“I think that depends on you,” he replied. “You are the one who wrote me into being.”

She risked a glance at him, but the firelight made his eyes impossible to read. “Is that what you think? That this is my invention?”

He shrugged, a motion that was both surrender and invitation. “I am nothing if not a willing accomplice.”

For a moment, she thought to lie again. To double down, to insist that nothing had happened, that it was all a misunderstanding. But the memory of last night—the ease with which he had dismantled her defenses, the hunger in his voice—made such a tactic seem not only futile, but childish.

She reached for the locket at her throat, again forgetting she didn’t wear it. “I never meant to hurt anyone,” she said, and the confession came out small, barely more than a whisper.

He waited, patient.

“It started as a joke,” she said. “Verity would not leave off her matchmaking, and I—” She trailed off, the truth suddenly enormous and unmanageable.

“You invented a suitor,” Teddy supplied, his voice gentler now.

She nodded. “It seemed easier than explaining that I didn’t want one.”

He smiled, but there was no mockery in it. “You chose a title at random?”

She closed her eyes, ashamed. “I liked the sound of it. Teddington. It sounded safe. Distant. I didn’t know it was real.”

He laughed then, a quiet, genuine laugh that made the fire pop in sympathy. “Nothing in my life has ever been safe, Lady Pattishall. Least of all me.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze squarely. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I am honored, in a way. Not every man is lucky enough to be invented by a woman like you.”