Page 36 of Consort's Glory
Theodore squeezed her hip. “How do you feel about putting out a joint statement with me, darling?”
“I’ve only ever helped Sophie with hers before.” She glanced up at him warily. “What do you want us to say?”
“Well…” He shot her a lopsided smile. “You could start off by telling everyone you’re having a great time as my guest.”
Margot arched a brow. “That I’m not a prisoner, you mean.”
“Exactly.” Theodore peered at her closely. “You don’t still feel like one, do you? Because you’re not. If you’d like to leave, I’ll let you go.” His hand tightened on her hip, sending another swarm of butterflies flapping in her stomach and a message at odds with his promise. “Can’t say I won’t follow you, though.”
Margot shook her head. She still couldn’t believe that this man wanted anything to do with her — so soon after they met, and when she was the wrong species? There was no way he wanted her that way.
But she didn’t think he wanted to hurt her, either, and at least in this, she believed he actually wanted to help her.
“Okay,” she answered, moving her attention back to the screen so she didn’t feel compelled to actually answer his question. “Let’s write a statement.”
* * *
By the time they finished crafting a statement that both soothed the public and yet gave nothing away, it was late afternoon. Margot was shocked by the ease with which they worked together, how flawlessly their thoughts meshed as they collaborated. She was even more surprised to find herself enjoying the lunch Andy and her staff brought into the study for them.
Theodore was… charming. No, not just that. He was attentive, focused. He appeared to hang on her every word even when he firmly disagreed with something she said. He was quick to tease and equally quick to push more food across the desk for her. She lost track of the number of times he quietly refilled her glass of water when she wasn’t looking.
He hovered, but not in the way that made her feel caged. It was as if Theodore got his greatest pleasure out of taking care of her, and jumped at any opportunity to do so, no matter how small the task was.
Margot had no idea what to make of that.
She had even less of a grasp on how to handle him when she found herself in a hastily cleared out luxury department store a few hours later, a fleet of black and glamour-clad guards manning all the exits as Theodore pawed through a rack of dresses.
“Why did you put this one back?”
Margot set a soft white sweater onto the small pile of clothing she had gathered. “I was only looking at those,” she answered, trying to get past how bemusing it was to see the sovereign picking through silky cocktail dresses worth a fortune. She couldn’t decide if the scene was more or less bizarre without the background buzz of other shoppers.
“Don’t you want this one?” Theodore pulled a violet dress off of the rack, and then a soft, backless dress in cream that made her sigh with pleasure when she touched it. “Or this one? I saw you look at both.”
“Exactly, I was just looking.” Margot turned away from him to look at her neat bundle of essentials on the low sofa just outside of the dressing rooms. “I don’t have any occasion to wear anything like those dresses, and I’m not about to ask you to pay for things I don’t need.”
“You didn’t ask me to pay for anything,” he smartly replied, much closer than before. Not a second later, both dresses drifted down to cover her pile of sweaters and skirts and jeans and all of the practical necessities she now lacked. “I want you to get everything you want, darling. There’s no limit.”
She looked up to find Theodore standing beside her with his hands perched on his lean hips, a mulish look on his face. The sovereign was stubborn, but she could be, too. “There is a limit when the gift comes with strings.”
Theodore’s lips thinned. “There are no strings. I’m taking care of you. It makes me happy. Consider this… compensation for my lack of adequate protection. You wouldn’t have lost all your belongings if I’d been there.”
Margot rubbed her forehead. “We’ve been over this, Sovereign. There was no reason for you to be there in the first place. You’re not my—”
His voice carried across the cavernous department store when he announced, “Get what you want, Margot, or so help me, I will buy the entire women’s department and you will have to deal with the fallout.”
Exasperated and reluctantly flustered by his insistence, Margot crossed her arms. Her first instinct was to respond to his challenge in kind, her hackles raising at his imperious tone, but she had to move past that urge.
For reasons beyond her, she knew that this meant something to him. And fighting Theodore on it would only dig the hole deeper. A night and a day in his company and already she understood that the sovereign was a man unused to hearing the word no, and when he did, he took it as a signal to do more, not less.
“I already agreed to let you buy my clothes,” she said, most of the annoyance smoothed out of her voice. “But I really don’t need the dresses, Sovereign. Where am I going to wear them? I’ve never even been to a party before. I don’t go to fancy dinners. It would be a waste of your money and a waste of two beautiful dresses.” Against her better judgment, she cast a wistful look at the dresses. “I’ve never worn anything like that before.”
And I probably never will. A grim thought, but a truthful one.
Theodore’s stance relaxed a little. His expression, previously hard-edged and stubborn, smoothed into something softer. Canting his head to one side in a gesture she had come to recognize as his “time to quiz Margot” tell, he asked, “You’ve really never been to a party? What about a nice dinner? A symphony?”
Her throat constricted around a jagged spike of grief and old bitterness. “No,” she answered shortly, turning away to fuss with the pile. “Grandma never let me the few times I was invited.”
Not even her own graduation gala, the party thrown to honor all the apprentices of her year at one of the most advanced hospitals in the world. For Margot, there were no symphonies. There were no club nights with her cousins. There was no prom or festivals or fairs. There was only the Goodeland, the hospital, and her own shriveled potential.
