Page 19 of My Lord Rogue (Wicked Widows’ League #34)
A s the afternoon wore on, the edges of the gathering frayed.
Guests peeled off in pairs or trios, seeking shade beneath the willows or trailing after the servants who had begun to set out cakes and the first rounds of claret.
The older men wandered toward the boat dock, inspecting the battered skiff as if debating the possibility of a mutiny.
The young women arranged themselves on the slope nearest the water, their pastel gowns radiant but their conversation shaded in undertones.
Theo’s place was dictated by proximity to Teddy.
They were, by all appearances, the devoted couple, his hand never far from her shoulder, her laugh always half a beat behind his cleverest line.
From across the lawn, Verity watched with the satisfaction of a general whose battle plan had unfolded without a hitch.
Lady Amelia, by contrast, circled like a hawk.
At first she hovered, content to eavesdrop on the flurry of wit and feigned reminiscence that passed between the two.
But as the performance deepened, so did her resolve to disrupt it.
She made her first attempt at separation by inserting herself into their conversation with a confectionary smile.
“I do wonder, Lady Pattishall, if you remember the exact date you first wrote to the baron? I ask because my cousin is compiling a book of travel correspondences, and he claims that letters written in spring are always more amorous. Is that so?”
Theo smiled, all ice and lace. “I suspect the content depends more on the recipient than the season. In fact, Lord Teddington wrote to me first at the passing of my husband.”
Amelia’s smile sharpened. “Indeed. One hears that the baron’s travels set many a heart aflutter in Vienna, Paris, even St. Petersburg. Which was your favorite, my lord?”
Teddy didn’t miss a beat. “My favorite? Why, the visits home, of course. A man can visit every capital in Christendom, but there is only one England, and only one Theodosia.”
A few nearby guests, including the captain, murmured approval at the sentiment. Even Lady Amelia, momentarily stalled, could only nod.
She tried again minutes later, interrupting their laughter with the news that a “most fascinating bird” had been spotted on the far side of the lake, a variety rare to England, perhaps even the Continent.
“You simply must see it, my lord,” Amelia insisted. “Your taste for the exotic is legendary, is it not?”
He looked to Theo, as if deferring to her. “What do you think, my dear? Is there time for birdwatching, or have we another engagement?”
Theo lifted her chin. “I think it would be rude to leave the captain without company.”
Teddy turned back to Amelia. “There you have it, Lady Amelia. I am, as ever, at the mercy of my dear lady friend.”
Amelia retreated, defeated but undeterred.
A third time she pounced, inviting Theo to join her for a stroll to “visit Lady Ervan’s rose beds.” It was less invitation than challenge.
Theo declined with a soft, “Perhaps on our way back to the house later.”
After the young woman left, Teddy studied Theo, his face a study in bland innocence. “You were magnificent. I haven’t seen anyone more persistent than Lady Amelia.”
Theo exhaled, realizing only now that she had been holding her breath. “She is… formidable.”
He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “Not so formidable as you, when you choose.”
She looked away, pretending to watch a dragonfly skirt the surface of the lake. “You are enjoying this too much.”
He leaned closer, so close she could feel the heat of him through the thin shield of her gown. “It’s rare to find an equal in such games. Rarer still to find a partner.”
The words unsettled her more than they should have. She turned, meaning to rebuke him, but he held up a hand, stopping her.
“My dear Lady Amelia,” he called over his shoulder, just loud enough to carry to the approaching woman, “I couldn’t possibly leave my Theo’s side, not after so long apart.”
There was laughter from the captain’s group, the men liked nothing better than a good, clean cut at a rival.
Verity, from her distant perch, caught Theo’s eye and raised a glass in silent salute.
The wind shifted, and for a moment the air was filled with the scent of cut grass. Theo felt herself dissolve a little, the edges of her resistance blurring. She was aware, with aching clarity, of every place their bodies did and did not touch.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice so soft she doubted he would hear.
He did. “For what?”
“For… deflecting. For not abandoning me to her.”
He smiled, the expression softer than any she’d seen from him. “You give me too much credit. Self-interest is the true engine of chivalry.”
She laughed, but the sound was unsteady.
“Shall we walk by the water?” he asked, dropping his voice.
She hesitated, then nodded. Her hand trembled as she accepted the crook of his arm. The gesture was so practiced, so perfectly staged, that it should have felt like another move in their ongoing masquerade. But it didn’t. Not entirely.
They set off along the shore, leaving behind the murmurs and watchful eyes.
A few heads turned, but no one followed.
The hush of the lake swallowed their footsteps.
Theo tried to focus on the path, on the flicker of sunlight through the reeds, but every cell in her body was tuned to the man beside her—the heat of his skin, the pressure of his hand over hers, the subtle torque of his muscles as they moved in tandem.
She knew they were still performing, still playing to the crowd. But in that moment, the act felt almost indistinguishable from the thing itself.
They walked on, past the ancient willow that marked the estate’s boundary, and for a while neither said a word. The silence was companionable, unhurried, a mutual recognition that the game could pause without either of them losing ground.
Eventually, the sounds of the picnic faded, replaced by the hush of wind and water.
For the first time all day, Theo felt herself breathe.
She risked a glance at Teddy, and was startled to find him already watching her. His gaze was searching, not predatory. There was a question there, unspoken and urgent.
She looked away, suddenly shy, and squeezed his arm. He squeezed back, a promise, or perhaps a warning.
The path curved ahead, hidden by wild roses and a stand of reeds. Theo found herself wondering what it would be like to walk with him like this forever—what it would mean to belong, even in pretense, to a man who saw her not as a prize, but as an adversary worth winning.
She didn’t know the answer, but for the moment, she didn’t have to.
They kept walking, their shadows merged on the grass, and the whole world narrowed to the space between their joined arms.
Theo clung to the crook of Teddy’s arm as if it might keep her upright, but the sensation was less like steadiness and more like vertigo.
Each time her skirts brushed his leg, each time he slowed to match her pace, she felt a pulse of something sharp and dangerous—an excitement with no name, the promise of either disaster or deliverance.
It was as if they were actors in a dream of someone else’s making, but the script had run out and now anything could happen.
When the reeds at last parted, they found themselves at a small promontory where the water licked against a heap of stones.
A willow arched overhead, trailing its fingers into the current.
Here, the noises of the party were almost gone, reduced to an occasional peal of laughter or the thin, metallic call of a trumpet.
Theo let go of Teddy’s arm, but only to steady herself on the low stone wall at the water’s edge.
He watched her for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he bent down and picked up a flat pebble, weighing it in his hand like a coin. “Did you know that the world’s greatest tragedy is the inability of one thing to become another?”
She looked at him, caught off guard by the abrupt turn in tone. “Is that Ovid again, or are you improvising?”
“Does it matter?” He bent and tossed the stone. It skimmed the water four times before vanishing. “I suppose what matters is whether you believe it.”
Theo traced the rim of her locket, the old gesture of worry made new by his scrutiny. “I’ve tried not to think about what matters. It’s easier just to… keep moving.”
Teddy nodded, then kneeled to select another stone, his fingers moving with the idle care of someone who has done this a thousand times.
“I was like that once. A man in motion. London to Paris, Paris to Vienna, then back again. Every city a chance to start over, or at least to forget the last mistake.”
She watched the muscles shift in his arm as he straightened. “Is that why you’re here now? To forget?”
He skipped the stone, watching its progress as if it had a bearing on his fate. “I came back to England because the Continent was no longer safe. I’d made… an error of judgment. Several, if we’re being honest. Ironic, considering that’s what led me to leave England.”
She waited, the water’s hush a goad to confession.
He looked over, his eyes suddenly dark, the flecks of gold gone to earth.
“Vienna, for instance. There was a woman—Countess Lenka. Beautiful, married, fond of riding at dawn. Her husband was less fond of me. It nearly ended in a duel, and I would have been cut down, except—” He shrugged.
“I ran. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth. ”
He laughed, a bitter sound. “Paris was worse. The father of a girl I’d never even kissed insisted on satisfaction. The police were involved. I spent a night in the Conciergerie, which I do not recommend, even to my enemies.”
Theo wanted to ask if the stories were true—if every rumor, every whispered sin, belonged to him—but her tongue was thick and numb.
There was a silence, long and tense. Theo felt herself poised on a knife-edge, her body cold and hot in turns.
She understood now why he had seemed familiar the moment she saw him—because he was the embodiment of every story she’d ever feared or desired, every warning her mother had whispered in the half-light.
He looked at her, and the careful mask fell away.
“I’m not the man you invented,” he said, the words as stark as stone. “I’m worse. I have lied, and stolen, and seduced where I ought to have walked away. I would ruin you, if you let me.”
The words should have scared her. They did, but not in the way she expected. She felt a thrill so intense it bordered on pain—a compulsion to step forward, to close the distance, to dare him to follow through.
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.
He hesitated, then closed the gap between them, so they were shoulder to shoulder at the water’s edge.
“Because you should know exactly who you’re pretending to love,” he said.
He let the words stand, then looked away, as if ashamed of their weight.
Theo stared out over the water, her breath ragged.
She tried to picture herself back at the house, among the women who had already written the rest of her story in ink.
But the image wouldn’t hold. It slipped away, replaced by the knowledge that she was here, alive, and that the next choice would belong to her alone.
“I have spent the last year trying not to feel anything at all,” she said, not looking at him. “I thought it would keep me safe. But I don’t think it works that way.”
He smiled, slow and rueful. “It doesn’t.”
They stood there, the world stilled around them, every possibility alive and waiting.
Theo turned, studying his face. She saw the shadow of violence there, the promise of heartbreak, but also the hope of something brighter—something wild, and ugly, and true.
She stepped closer, until there was nothing between them but air. He didn’t move, didn’t reach for her, just waited.
“I don’t believe you could ruin me,” she said, voice steady. “I think you’d have to care, first.”
He exhaled, the sound half-laughter, half-prayer.
“Perhaps,” he said. “But you’d be surprised how quickly that can change.”
She touched his hand—briefly, lightly—and felt the pulse beneath his skin.
For the first time all day, she let herself smile.
They lingered, neither willing to break the spell, and the world around them fell away.
The game was far from over. But for now, in the hush between the next lie and the next confession, there was peace.
They walked back together, slower this time, the path curving ahead like a promise. Behind them, the lake was a perfect, empty mirror, waiting to reflect whatever the chose to do next.