Page 35 of Dare to Love a Duke
She’d broken her own rule of getting involved with a guest, and look what it had brought her. Nothing but turmoil.
“Whatever his reasons, I told him not to make up his mind about the fate of the club. Not until at least tomorrow night.”
“Got something planned?” Kitty picked up a small piece of sliced pear and handed it to Liam, who promptly began to gum it.
Lucia’s thoughts raced into catastrophic scenarios, yet preparing for these disasters had helped her stay nimble—and saved her hide—many times.
“I thought to give him a tour of the place,” she said, like a general planning a battle. “Let him see that this isn’t merely a place where people screw—it’s a business that supports over a dozen people. That’s got to make him decide in our favor.” She said this as if she could convince herself of the outcome, as if speaking aloud her greatest hope made it more likely to come true.
“Let us hope so,” Elspeth said grimly. “Thinking about finding another job makes me woozy. How do I tell a potential employer that my last work experience consisted of doing the accounting for a sex club?”
“On the positive side,” Kitty said in a bright voice, cutting a slice of sausage, “your future employer will know you aren’t easy to distract.” She popped a morsel into her mouth and smiled.
“You’re the only thing that distracts me.” Elspeth reached across the table and took Kitty’s free hand. The two shared a tender look, fraught with intimacy.
Dio mio, Lucia thought as she looked back and forth between Kitty and Elspeth.Never sawthatcoming.I’ve got my head buried in my ownculo,and didn’t notice my two closest friends falling in love.
A throb of envy pulsed through her. She could never have that in her life, not without opening herself up to devastation and disaster. Just a single night with Tom had knocked her legs out from under her.
Elspeth squeezed Kitty’s hand before letting go and starting in on her own meal.
“Think he’ll show tomorrow?” Elspeth asked.
Glancing around the room, Lucia took in the kitchen that had seen not just the preparation of elegant delicacies, but simple, homey meals like the one her two friends enjoyed at that moment.
She’d always hoped that one day she could turn the running of the club over to a successor, and she, Kitty, and Elspeth could live next door to the girls’ home. They’d all labor together to run the home—Elspeth in charge of the ledgers, Kitty overseeing the hiring and management of staff, and Lucia supervising everything while providing some teaching. There would be at least one orange tabby cat. Liam would grow up with two dozen adopted sisters, and the world would be, finally, secure.
“I can’t say—I’m no astronomer,” Lucia said wearily, and exhaled. “Even if I was, it’s too smoky here in London to read the stars.”
All she could do was hope, but hope seldom made for a sound foundation. Without warning, the whole structure could collapse, burying you alive underneath the rubble of your dreams.
Tom barely waited for the butler to announce him before striding into the Duke of Greyland’s cavernous study. His friend stood at his approach and came forward with his hand extended. Tom inhaled, willing his body to stop vibrating with tension.
“Are all the chophouses and gaming hells closed?” Greyland asked as they shook. He frowned at their clasped hands, as though feeling the emotion that made Tom shake.
Tom pulled away.
“I went to the nearest den of ill repute and they advised me to come here,” he said in a distracted voice. He glanced behind his friend and eyed the sheaves of documents stacked upon the desk. “That’s become a familiar sight.” He grimaced.
“Now you and I are both at the summit of mountains,” Greyland acknowledged, “trying to keep from drowning in a sea of paper.”
His legs needing to move, Tom strode to the carved stone fireplace and stared down into it. Behind their screen, the flames shifted and danced, as restless as he felt.
“Far be it from me to keep you from running the duchy.” Tom fought to stop himself from pounding his fist into the stone. Words hovered at the tip of his tongue, but should he speak them? “I shouldn’t have come. You’re busy and—”
“Join me for a stroll in the garden,” Greyland said with an air that was both genial and commanding.
Tom looked toward the windows, noting the film of frost collecting along the edges of the panes. “November gardens make for chilly strolls,” he noted drily.
“You’re equipped for it.” His friend nodded at Tom’s caped greatcoat. “All I need is to outfit myself similarly.” Greyland went to the bellpull and tugged it. When the butler appeared, Greyland said, “My coat, and two folding knives.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The butler bowed, then backed from the room.
Body still jangling, Tom walked the perimeter of the study. He held out his hand, touching the spines of countless shelved books as he passed. Now that he was here, uncertainty about his planned confession clung to him.
“How fares the duchess?” he asked.
“Marvelous well. She’s the summer in the long winter that had been my existence.”
