Only For His Lady (The Theodora Sword #1)(3)

The rivalry between them was an age-old one that dated through the years; a bitter feud fought for some beautiful lady and the rights to that lady. The animosity between their two families had only been intensified when her family’s great sword had been sold off to none other than one of those monstrous Renshaw ancestors. Even with all the years that had passed since that theft, the acrimony burned just as strong.

She pursed her lips. Particularly when one of those blasted gentlemen went and stole another man’s love. Her poor brother. The carriage hit a particularly nasty bump in the road and she knocked into Carol’s side, interrupting her friend’s impressive rant.

“Pardon,” she murmured as Carol steadied her.

Her friend waved her hand off. “Where was I?” She jabbed a finger at her brother and launched once more into her diatribe for poor Herbie. “I’ve not finished with you, Herbert Harold Cresswall.”

Before, Theo had felt just a niggling of guilt, now she felt all manner of guilt. When Carol was in one of her tempers it really wasn’t pleasant. When one of those tempers was directed at one person, it was all the worse. She should know. Closer to sisters than friends, Theo had been on the receiving end of one of those jabbing fingers far too many times.

Theo returned her attention to the passing streets, the carriage rattling through the surprisingly quiet streets at an impressive clip. Unease turned in her belly. She brushed it back. Or she tried to. The nasty little churning remained. She’d so carefully considered this whole scheme, knew the rightness of her plan, and her family’s claim to that sword, and yet now…unease rolled along her spine.

“Don’t be silly,” she muttered under her breath. Neither the Duke of Devlin nor any of his three devilish siblings would dare find her hidden amidst their masked guests at their annual, famed masquerade.

She pursed her lips. One of the most famed, favorite events of a London Season, which she’d never had an opportunity to attend. Granted she’d only just entered her third Season, but it never felt pleasant to be left out—of anything. She should know. Plenty of doors were closed to the Raynes, all because the Duke of Devlin and his devilish kin had done nothing to hide their disdain of the Rayne family.

Who would welcome a mere earl’s family when it would earn the displeasure of a duke? You didn’t do it. You just didn’t do it.

The carriage jerked to a sudden, unexpected stop. Her heart dipped. “We’re here?”

Carol’s lips, turned up in a gleeful smile. “We’re here.” Then, Carol had always found romanticism in subterfuge.

A driver pulled the door open and Herbie leaned down, wincing as his feet collided with the pavement, likely sore from having so many kicks dealt him by Carol in her shepherdess’ costume with those serviceable boots. Carol allowed the servant to hand her down, and turned, looking back questioningly at Theo frozen inside the carriage.

The frisson of unease grew, spiraling inside her. And she knew it must be madness because she never worried about Herbie, the habitual worrier, well…worrying. But the manner in which the thick, London fog rolled over the pavement, and the night clouds eerily rolled past the moon bespoke doom. Oh, don’t be a ninny.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come along then, Th—” She clamped her lips tight.

Giving her head a shake, Theo stepped down from the carriage. The metal of her costume rattled noisily. She adjusted her armor and then reached back for the enormous, and more importantly, fake broadsword upon her seat. Just a small piece in her plot. A necessary piece that would ensure her actions this night attracted no suspicious looks.

She fell into step alongside Carol and hurried after Herbie. As they walked, Theo studied the pink stucco townhouse awash in the soft glow of candles. The Devil, as she’d come to call him, of course, lived in London’s most fashionable end of Mayfair and likely had an elegant, white marble foyer and a grand sweeping staircase.

She climbed the handful of steps and the butler, resplendent in a mask, drew the door open. Theo filed in behind Herbie and Carol, entering…the elegant foyer resplendent in, of course, the white marble floor and grand sweeping staircase.

“Of course,” she mumbled to herself.

Footmen rushed forward to relieve them of their cloaks. She hesitated and then shrugged out of the green muslin garment, feeling entirely naked, even as she was fully concealed in her armor, piecemeal, and black breeches.

“Quite scandalous donning breeches,” Herbie muttered.

Yes. But then, it was the least scandalous thing she’d done yet this evening, and would do for the remainder of it.

He looked as though he wished to say more on it but then Carol quelled his words with another dark look.

Then, the butler led them toward the noise filtering from deep within the townhouse. The ballroom. Her heart sped up, a thrill that had nothing to do with the excitement likely filling every other unwed, young lady present. Those ladies would be seeking stolen kisses and the promise of a mere taste of passion.

Theodosia had only one manner of theft on her mind…and had for the better part of a fortnight.

Carol slowed her step and Theodosia adjusted her stride to match the pace set by her friend. “You’re blinking.”

“Of course I’m blinking,” Theodosia muttered. Except she knew what her friend meant.

“Oh, come, you know what I mean.” Yes, those rapid, too many blinks that had made her a deplorable liar as a child.