Newberry House intimidated Theodora on first sight as it loomed above her in the light of a half dozen lanterns. The imposing portico flanked by liveried footmen bearing lanterns made her feel very small and very, very much out of place in her drab mourning gown. She hoped no one thought her attire a bad omen for the family. She considered remaining in the carriage, but Lord Maitland held out his arm and drew her against his side as if she were not his secretary, but a close companion.

She glanced up at his face, alarmed by how still and unnatural his usually expressive features had become since she’d interrupted his dinner to share the horrible news about his father.

Her mind whirled with questions that she did not dare ask. About Amy, a sister he comforted with such sweet affection but who was not spoken of at Maitland House; about the mistress; about his father being at his mistress’ home. She’d heard enough whispers that night to know the particulars of what Lord Maitland had discovered upstairs, and to become furious about it. She held her tongue though, watching in silence, observing the anguish of the man at her side, powerless to say or do anything to soothe him. It was not her place to look after Lord Maitland, but she was surprised that she wanted to.

She clung to his arm a little tighter as they were met by an old butler. “I must see my mother immediately,” Lord Maitland explained.

The old man winced. “Lady Templeton is always abed at this hour.”

“Lord Templeton has fallen gravely ill and will be brought home shortly. Have the staff prepare to receive him from the mews,” Lord Maitland said so coldly, he might have been speaking of bringing home fish from the marketplace. “Have Lady Lenore roused, too. The countess shall need her cousin’s comfort after I’ve spoken to her.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lord Maitland drew her to the staircase and started up. Shadows shrouded the portraits adorning the walls and, once at the top, they strolled quietly down a long, carpeted hallway. Newberry House was very grand but at the same time seemed quite comfortable.

The viscount paused eventually to tap on a closed door then waited, eyes closed. For a change, his body was utterly without fidgets. “Mama, it is Quinn.”

“Come,” an older woman’s voice called sleepily from within the room.

Theodora separated herself from her employer and stood back. “I’ll wait here.”

He nodded, opened his mouth to speak, but then disappeared inside the room without saying anything more. He’d been like that earlier. Appearing willing to talk but unable to voice his thoughts aloud.

Theodora sagged against the wall. Now that she was apart from Lord Maitland, she could breathe freely again.

“What!” Lady Templeton cried out suddenly inside the room.

Theodora straightened as footsteps marched through the room, her employer’s voice a steady murmur under the sound of his mother’s outraged outbursts. There was silence for a time, and then Theodora strained to hear anything at all.

An older woman burst out of a room further along the hall and hurried toward Theodora wearing a robe and a mop cap over her silver hair. “Is Lord Maitland still with Lady Templeton?”

Theodora nodded. “They’re still talking.”

The other woman held out her hand. “Lady Lenore Roswell. Lady Templeton’s cousin. And you are?”

“Theodora Dalton. Lord Maitland’s new secretary.”

The other woman smiled. “A pleasure. My lady was speaking of you and her son earlier tonight.”

“She was?”

The older woman nodded. “She hoped you would be a better influence on her son than his last secretary. She has missed her son, and would like to see more of him.”

Theodora took the request to heart. “I shall do my best to remind him to visit her more often in the future.”

“Good.” Something crashed and broke inside the room, and Lenore’s face fell. “Oh, she’s in a vile temper over this latest scandal if she’s throwing things already. I’d better go in.”

The door opened, and Lord Maitland stepped out. “She waiting for you.”

The other woman said a quick goodbye and disappeared into the room. Quinn pulled the door closed but stood there, hand on the knob, his eyes closed as the women inside discussed recent events in ever-rising tones.

Concerned by his stillness, Theodora placed her hand on his chest. “My lord?”

Lady Templeton screamed out from within the room, “He will stop at nothing to humiliate us!”

Lord Maitland refocused on Theodora’s face, ignoring further crashes as objects were destroyed inside Lady Templeton’s bedchamber. “He will be here soon.”

She drew her employer down the hall without really knowing where she was going except with a vague idea that the stairs were back in this direction. The farther they were away from Lady Templeton, the better. Some furies were not meant to be shared.

However, before they could reach the head of the staircase, Lord Maitland tugged her sideways into a room and shut the door. Theodora blinked until her eyes had adjusted to the lower light of a moonlit room. A little-used bedchamber, judging by the chill in the air and the dust covers draped over furnishings. Lord Maitland kept his back to her, his fingers pressed so hard to the wood of the door that his knuckles showed white.

Theodora had a sudden insight into what bothered her about her employer’s reaction tonight. What she had noticed earlier when they’d talked. Lord Maitland’s responses were not those of a concerned son.

“You hate him,” she said, keeping her voice very low. “You hated him before tonight.”

He sagged and slowly turned around, leaning against the door for support. His eyes were huge, too full of pain to hold for long. “Yes, I hate him,” he whispered. “He made my life hell.”

She moved closer and set her hands on his chest, rubbing his body soothingly, astonished by the confession but not the fact. There was little to love in a man who would behave as Lord Templeton had tonight.

Lord Maitland trembled under her touch, but it was not grief that had changed him. It was rage.

“It will be all right,” she promised.

“Will it?”

Very slowly, Theodora slipped her hands up to cup his face as Amy Cabot had done earlier. Lord Maitland had previously rebuffed Theodora’s romantic overtures, but in the wake of what had happened tonight, she might be excused in her bid to offer comfort.

His cheeks were hot with the evidence of his temper, and she scratched against the whiskers of his cheeks with a half-smile. Oh, this man was a challenge. One moment carefree and unaffected yet the next, brimming over with so many emotions he couldn’t hope to hide them from her. He would not want platitudes or promises of a swift recovery for a man he despised. He would want facts that meant something to him.

“It has been my experience that few recover from such an affliction as the doctor described. Templeton will linger, helpless as an infant, until he dies, most likely.”

Lord Maitland trembled and then grasped her elbows tightly. “I want that.”

Although surprised by his venom, Theodora leaned into his embrace, using her whole body to connect with him. What kind of monster had Lord Templeton been to his son that death was preferred, anticipated, with such violent longing?

They stood together for a long while, Theodora plastered to Lord Maitland in a way that made her pulse race. She stroked his face gently, tangled her fingers in his wavy hair until he relaxed against her fully. His head dropped to rest against hers and he sighed raggedly. Comfort, however, was not to be mistaken for affection or, by any stretch of the imagination, a prelude to intimacy.

Theodora slowly drew back, cupping his cheeks again and smiling up into his face. If Lord Maitland saw his father again tonight, he would no doubt become angry. Theodora could help him by stepping between them. “A good secretary might be asked to oversee the care of his employer’s family and report any developments as they occur.”

“And you are an outstanding secretary,” he whispered with a half-smile tugging his lips.

“The best you’ve ever had.” Theodora caught his eye and winked, hoping further levity might be desirable at a time like this. “I shall go down and await the carriage bearing Lord Templeton and report to you any new developments after he is settled in his bedchamber. You may depend on me to keep you informed. Where will I find you when I have something to report?”

“With my mother, most likely.” He shuddered and straightened from his slouch. “She will not want to sit at my father’s bedside, either. She has a sitting room next to her bedchamber. Look for me there.”

Theodora grasped his hand and squeezed. “I cannot imagine the pain you both feel today over such a terrible betrayal, but I promise to do all I can to lessen your cares.”

He ran one finger down her cheek, causing her to shiver. “You already have.”

On impulse, Theodora pressed a kiss to his cheek before she peeked out into the hall.

Lord Maitland caught Theodora’s hand before she could escape. “Thank you.”

She nodded and, when released, she left him quickly, hurrying downstairs to find a servant that could direct her to the rear of the house and the mews. The carriage should be arriving at any time now and she would wait amongst the household staff for Lord Templeton’s arrival.

Later, when Lord Maitland had time to grapple with his own feelings, he would come and speak to his father alone. She was sure there were many things he should get off his chest before it was too late to speak his mind to the man who’d betrayed him.

She did not have very long to wait for the cart conveying Lord Templeton, and he was carried inside, still and silent strapped on a house door with just a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. As Theodora glanced around her, it became clear there was not a damp eye among the servants of Newberry House. Lord Templeton was not likely to be missed by many here.

Once the earl was settled into his bedchamber, the evening dragged into the new day with no change in Lord Templeton’s condition and nothing worthy to report each hour. He clung to life with a tenacity Theodora never expected, living many hours beyond what she had initially been told he might. During the long day, a handful of highly regarded physicians came to examine him, prod him. One had even sent a current of electricity through his left hand in a bid to stir movement, to no avail.

Only the original physician remained to monitor the patient beyond luncheon.

There was not much to do or see. The only thing that caused any reaction was mention of Lord Maitland’s name in passing. Just the smallest hitch in Lord Templeton’s breath denoted awareness of his surroundings.

Theodora studied the prone figure across the room as the day drew to a close. As expected, neither her employer nor Lady Templeton had visited the patient. They awaited her hourly reports in other parts of the house; their only words were of thanks for her coming.

It was nearing time for her next report too. She stood, a little stiff from her hours-long vigil, and approached the bed.

Lord Templeton met Theodora’s gaze. He blinked several times.

Her heart skipped a beat at the response. “Can you hear me, my lord?”

He blinked again, then opened his mouth to speak, and a croak came out. The first sound she’d heard from him that day. It may only be that he was clearing his throat, but it was a valiant attempt to communicate. “Well done, my lord. Wait. I shall fetch your physician immediately.”

Theodora flew out of the room, along the hall to where the physician had retired to take tea in an upstairs sitting room. She tapped on the door urgently and poked her head in. “Sir, he spoke.”

The door flew back so quickly she stumbled inside. Mr. Fletcher, a man of middle years and portly proportions, gaped. “Surely not.”

“He made a sound, but there was no sense to it,” she promised. “He tried.”

Fletcher strode past her, wiping his hands on a scrap of white cloth before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. “This I must see with my own eyes to believe it.”

Fletcher examined Lord Templeton thoroughly. He checked his pulse, the feel of his hand, his face. He peeled back the man’s eyes and brought a candle close.

After a few minutes more, he straightened and faced Theodora. “There’s no change.”

“But there was. I swear. He did try to communicate.”

The man removed his glasses and polished them with a cloth from his pocket. “Are you sure you did not fall asleep and dream it?”

“No. How could I have imagined it when I was standing beside the bed?”

“Is there a problem?” Lord Maitland asked in a cold tone that made her jump nearly out of her skin for the harshness of it.

Her employer stood beyond the doorway, looking at Theodora rather than his parent and appearing every inch the bored aristocrat.

Theodora rushed toward him. “Your father spoke to me, or tried to.”

“I think it highly unlikely,” Fletcher protested.

Lord Maitland frowned, and the façade cracked as his lips quirked briefly into a nearly missed smile. “If Miss Dalton heard him then it was undoubtedly real. She would not offer up false news to me.”

Theodora sagged, grateful for Lord Maitland’s belief in her even if he must wish to believe she was so very wrong about his father. “Thank you.”

He sighed. “However, it makes no difference. We’re leaving, my dear.”

She glanced at Templeton. The earl’s eyelids fluttered as if he recognized his son’s voice, but could not react to it more than with that effort. “Are you sure you don’t want to say something to him?”

“No, I do not.” Maitland grasped her elbow firmly and drew her out into the hall. “We have both wasted more time here than he deserves. I am going to take you home to your mother, and our lives will return to the way they were always meant to be. The countess agrees that lingering is quite unnecessary.”

She glanced back at the man in the bed. Lord Templeton was still again, eyes staring across the room with no life in them whatsoever. Perhaps she had imagined an improvement. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. We will leave the earl in Mr. Fletcher’s capable hands. A little more electricity in him might do the trick,” he muttered.

Lord Maitland escorted her downstairs without another word. She still believed Lord Maitland might feel better by speaking with his tormenter one last time but she had to admit she was very much out of her depth with him right now. He led her down to where the butler waited with hats and gloves at the ready.

“Thank you, Mr. Falstaff,” she murmured to the servant whom she’d come to know a little during the day. He was a kind man who had worked for the family for decades.

“You’re welcome, Miss Dalton.”

“Send word when his condition changes for the worst,” Maitland asked before leading her out of the house and down to his carriage.

Her employer appeared made of iron; he was utterly rigid, and she wished there was something she could do to improve his mood.

Theodora was utterly drained and feeling very low, and all for the man who’d shown her so much kindness and compassion in her time of need. She felt so very bad for Lord Maitland. Angry on his behalf, too. What a terrible way to discover your lover had thrown you over. How humiliated he must feel. She could not understand why Adele Blakely had not been more devoted to him. Theodora would have been, if given a choice.

“My parents were not a love match,” Lord Maitland said suddenly, shifting awkwardly on the bench at her side. “How could they be?”

“Lady Templeton is an exceptional woman,” she murmured softly. After the initial outburst in the privacy of her bedchamber, the countess had mellowed and shown unexpected strength of character in the face of a terrible situation. Theodora had been quite impressed with the older woman’s composure during her brief reports. “I don’t know any other lady who would have held to such self-possession under the circumstances.”

Lord Maitland’s hand ghosted over hers where it rested on the edge of the carriage bench seat, but he clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward. “I want to scream,” he confessed.

“Don’t,” she urged, concerned but full of understanding for his reaction. Men did not normally express their emotions loudly. It startled her that he was probably holding on to his temper by a mere thread. No wonder he was anxious to escape to his own home. Theodora felt very protective of him. “Not yet. There are too many ears around us now.”

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Thank you for today.”

“It was my pleasure.” She rubbed his back in companionable sympathy. “It was high time I repaid you for all you’ve done for my mother and me. Sitting at the earl’s bedside was the least I could do. You all but held me up off the ground when my father died, if you recall.”

“I stopped you from destroying yourself. You would have run into the fire because you loved your father so much.” He shook his head. “I’ve never had that affection for mine.”

She leaned against his side. “His loss, not yours.”

His eyes glowed, and he reached out to caress her cheek in an entirely inappropriate manner for their current situation of employer and employee. Lord Maitland had turned her down days ago, but there had been several times today when his hand had sought hers discreetly. She held his gaze now and time had slipped away, captured by the speculative look in his eyes. Theodora tried not to read more into his behavior than she should, but she wondered if the loyalty he felt for Adele Blakely had ended with her betrayal.

And if it had, what he would do about it, if anything.

His hand fell away as the carriage stopped before the stairs of Maitland House. He alighted and helped her out. Together they ascended the stairs side by side without touching, stepped into the foyer, and they both sighed with relief.

In their absence, Theodora’s mother had finally come down from her room and rushed to greet them.

“Mama.” Theodora hurried forward and embraced her, eager for the comfort of familiar, loving arms about her. It felt so good to see Mama on her feet at last. “I hope you received my message,” she whispered.

“I did. Thank you.” Mother turned to Maitland. “I am so very sorry that your family has suffered this tragedy.”

“Thank you.” Maitland bowed formally. “If you will excuse me. It has been a difficult day.”

“Of course. If there is anything I can ever do, just ask.” Her mother searched his face but nodded when Maitland made no reply. She smiled nervously. “Well, good night then.”

Lord Maitland took the stairs two at a time.

As soon as he was out of sight, Mama turned on her. “We’ve brought him bad luck.”

“Nonsense.” Theodora hooked her arm through her mother’s and led her to the hall table. She was not going to get into a protracted discussion about curses and fate and all that. Lord Templeton had been fornicating with an actress, his son’s mistress of five years, for heaven’s sake.

After the long day away, the hall table was overflowing with correspondence, but she hadn’t the heart to open anything. She shook her head. She had no wish to read about a new ball or dinner her employer was offered as entertainment. “We had nothing to do with the events of today, or last night, and you know it.”

“Poor man. What are you going to do?”

Theodora looked up in surprise. “Me?”

“He seems very angry. He will need an outlet for that anger. Something other than using his fists would be best. You must talk to him. Calm him.”

Theodora frowned. “He’s not a violent man, Mama. At least, I don’t believe so. He was very gentle when he broke the news to his mother.”

“His mother raised him.”

She remembered his gentleness with Lady Templeton all throughout what had to be the most trying of days. They were close. She was glad he was loved by at least one parent. The other seemed to have viewed him as competition. “Well, I for one am very glad that he does not follow in his father’s footsteps.”

“Maitland will assume a new title when the earl dies, he’ll most likely move to grander lodgings, perhaps even to Newberry House. We should make plans to move out.”

“I…” Theodora bit her lip. “I will not leave Lord Maitland at such a time, even if I could.”

“Why not?”

“I like the work I do for him very much.”

Mother’s gaze became speculative. “What if he should bow to social expectations and replace his unconventional female secretary with his father’s existing staff?”

Theodora had already met Lord Templeton’s secretaries during the day—a pair of dull men who seemed genuinely eager to help her employer with anything he’d asked for. Her introduction as Quinn’s secretary had been a tense moment. The men had frankly stared with barely concealed shock. She had caught one of them, the elder, smirking rudely at her behind Lord Maitland’s back too.

Quinn had not noticed, or perhaps he had and found such behavior normal. It was hard to tell, given how quiet he’d been that day.

Unfortunately, Lord Maitland had appeared comfortable around the two gentlemen and had made plans to meet with them soon. It had been very plain to see the pair were organized, perhaps irreplaceable even for the soon-to-be new earl, at least at first. The rosy future she’d envisaged managing Maitland’s simple affairs could very easily move out of her reach because of his elevation, and sooner than she was ready for. She might have to share her employer and defer to the other pair entirely.

She pulled a face. “Those decisions are out of my hands. All I can do is my best work.” She grasped her mother’s cold fingers tightly, trying to convey hope that she did not feel at that moment. “No matter what happens, we will survive, Mama. I have this month’s wages, should the worst come to pass.”

“Yes, you have your wages,” Mama said slowly, her attention drifting to the front windows.

She chafed her mother’s hand. “If Maitland doesn’t want me working for him anymore, perhaps I can find another employer very quickly with his reference. He knows our situation. I cannot imagine he’d be so cruel as to toss us out on the street without cause or provocation.”

“I suspect he wouldn’t.” Her mother forced a smile, the first one she’d shared in days. “Have you eaten?”

“Only a little, at Lady Templeton’s insistence. She sends you her condolences, Mama. She had already heard about our situation before we met, and seemed very keen to know we were comfortable.”

“Lady Templeton’s warm reputation is well known about Town. Quite the opposite of her husband’s.” Mama put her arm around her back and steered her away from the study. “Come. Cook has laid out a cold supper in readiness for Lord Maitland’s return, so you must have something. You appear exhausted.”

“It was a difficult day,” Theodora admitted as she sank into a chair while her mother began to fill a plate for her. “I’ve never known a stranger day, in fact. It must be hard to feel sorry for a man like Lord Templeton, given how he was found.”

Her mother dropped a plate before her and poured tea. “Your message hinted at scandal.”

Theodora nodded. “It could be and if that happens it will not be an easy time for Lady Templeton.”

Her mother leaned closer. “That bad?”

Theodora whispered the details directly in her mother’s ear in the briefest way possible.

“Oh my,” mother said as she drew back. She glanced upward. “What a blow to the boy’s pride.”

Theodora picked at her food. There was nothing boyish about Lord Maitland. Tall, broad-shouldered, and devilishly handsome when he smiled. His mistress had been a fool to jeopardize their connection in favor of the inferior father. She was certain Maitland would be a much more agreeable lover than a man twice his age and girth could be.

She set her fork down, concern for her employer still pressing upon her. He might need a confidant. Someone to bolster his ego after today. He’d already begun to turn to her in private moments. Her mother was right that Lord Maitland was holding in so much. He would need an outlet that came without strings or expectations. Punching things would only see him hurting himself, and she couldn’t bear for that to happen.

Not when there was an easier way that harmed none.

“I think I will retire early.”

“That would be wise.” Her mother caught her hand. “I’m sure the worst is yet to come.”

Theodora hoped that wasn’t true as she kissed her mother’s cheek and then eyed the sideboard. “Do you think cook will mind if I take up a plate to see if Maitland will eat?”

“I would think she would be pleased,” Mama said, nodding. “They’re all very loyal and worried for the family. We’d be smart to do the same.”

Theodora picked out a selection of meats and tarts, foods easily eaten with the fingers, and carried the plate upstairs. There was light shining beneath Maitland’s door, so she tapped softly and waited until he opened it.

Maitland opened the door swiftly, regarded her and then the plate.

“You barely ate today,” she reminded him, noting his bare feet and throat.

He widened the door and, despite his state of undress, gestured her inside his room. “I’ve never had a secretary worry for my appetite before.”

“You’ve never employed a woman in the role before. As a whole, we are fairly observant, no matter the position we fulfill.” Theodora glanced around, noting the bed covers had been rumpled already, a single tumbler half filled with amber spirits rested on the cluttered mantel, and the windows were thrown open to let in the cold. There was no table to place his meal upon. “Where would you like it?”

“On the bed will do.”

Theodora set the plate on the counterpane and then crossed to the windows, intending to pull them tightly shut against the blackening sky and chill in the air. There was a bright moon tonight, and the ruins of her old home drew her attention like a magnet. She could still smell the scent of charred wood even from this distance. “It will be a cold night,” she whispered.

She closed the windows and turned to face Maitland before her churning emotions could gather momentum.

“I did not notice.” He stopped at the plate and picked up a sliver of ham to taste, and then continued until the plate was cleaned off. “Thank you. I was hungry after all.”

Theodora moved toward him, her skin prickling with awareness. She was not the only one in pain anymore, and the night hours could be difficult. Maitland suffered but in a different way than she did. His arms would feel very good about her tonight. If he was agreeable, she might provide the same comfort to him, as well as take his mind from his troubling thoughts.

His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, but he appeared restless, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She reached out to touch his arm to still him. “What can I do?”

“Tell me why you are really here, Theodora.” He met her gaze, his expression weary, defeated and vulnerable. “I’m not in the mood for games.”