Imperfect (Disappeared #1)

Chapter One

"What do you want, Theo?" Cecilia said irritably. "Don't you know it's impolite to stare?" She put down the letter she had been reading with rapt attention only a moment earlier, her rosebud mouth pursed.

Theodosia had been watching her covertly while eating a cup of strawberries and cream. The family was gathered at the long table in the sunny breakfast parlor. She was wondering, for perhaps the millionth time, how the two of them could possibly be related. Cecilia was pink and white and blonde and, even at fifteen years old, a perfect model of decorum. Theodosia was three years older and tall and curvy with strong shoulders, an awkward demeanor, a famous temper, and a wild tangle of dark brown locks.

"She's probably thinking about rolling about in the mud like she always does," said George, their eldest brother. He ran the estate with their father, Lord William Stafford, Earl of Helenshire, and always wore a cravat that looked a shade too tight.

Henry, a gingery boy of twenty who was fond of vice and not much else, leaned in toward her and sniffed. "She doesn't stink this time, at least."

Theodosia glared at him. "I don't stink. Shut your mouth. You're both swine for the way you treat me. All your education and for what? Neither of you has a shred of decency."

Cecilia's china-blue eyes widened. "I could say the same. Your manners are simply disgraceful. I'm surprised you're not hem-deep in mud and smelling of sheep. I know you've been out again this morning even after Papa told you not to."

Theodosia shot her sister a sharp look. Her father had strictly forbidden morning walks, as he thought such early wanderings unladylike. Still, Theodosia was irrepressible and went out anyway, as she had that very morning.

Her father, a stout man with a reddish face, low shaggy eyebrows, and a prominent nose, usually ignored their banter. But at the mention of Theodosia's defiance, he immediately put down his paper and fixed her with a severe look.

"Theodosia, you know I expect better from a lady of this house. You are the daughter of an earl, not a milkmaid. Have you no sense of dignity?"

She knew better than to argue with her father. Any answer that wasn't perfectly meek would earn her days confined to her room. "I do, Papa. I didn't go far. I find my room awfully stuffy, you see, and I thought if I just got a little air-"

"You may take your walk later," the earl interrupted. "Your duty in the morning is to get dressed and be at breakfast on time. You have no business wandering about the countryside at dawn. It's unseemly."

Theodosia sighed deeply, willing herself not to answer, her eyes fixed on her strawberries. It seemed her father never talked to her except when he was angry. She always hoped that he would smile at her lovingly or pat her hand, as he did with Cecilia. Yet this was rarely the case.

The earl stared at her a moment longer. "We don't want Lord Merton's son to hear that you're prone to strange behavior."

She felt a sharp pang in her chest. Please, not this again. Her mother had decided at some point that Lord Merton's heir and oldest son, Edward Merton, would be a perfect match for Theodosia. It was easy to guess why, and not just because the two families were good friends. It was because Lord Merton had a sizable estate in Derby. His son received a handsome income that would only increase when he inherited his due. Her family would benefit from such a connection.

"I don't see how Mr. Merton would hear of my behavior," Theodosia said, unable to help herself. "He seems far more interested in London society. I hear he's almost never at the estate."

Cecilia sighed dramatically. "And so he should be. Papa, I can't see why I can't marry Mr. Merton. Emma wrote to me last week from London and said that he is the wittiest man in town and always dresses in the latest way."

"Cecilia, you have not yet been formally introduced to society. You must wait until then," her father replied, smiling at her fondly. "Next year, you shall be feted properly and find yourself a handsome suitor, you mark my words."

"The last time Mr. Merton saw Theo, I swear he looked as if he wanted to run a million miles away by the swiftest horse in his stable," put in Henry.

"He did not. Hold your tongue," thundered their father.

Henry shut up, though he and George exchanged knowing smirks. Theodosia knew both of them thought her useless: unable to sing, dance, or paint, unattractive and dull besides. Hurt bloomed in her heart. It was an unhappy thing to have your own family think you worthless.

Theodosia had always felt like a changeling, as if she had accidentally been handed to the wrong family at birth. She had always felt out of place, though she didn't know where she really belonged. Her only clue was the feeling of connection she had with the gorgeous green hills and forests of Helenshire. Escaping to them early in the morning, before she made to dress and act like an earl's daughter, was her only bit of respite. The only time when she felt at all like herself.

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