Page 76 of Dare to Love a Duke
“It’s not like you, Mam.” He flung himself down in a nearby upholstered chair.
“To discuss the weather?”
“To avoid saying what you think of me directly to my face. You’ve always been very free with your opinions about my life.”
“About everyone’s lives,” Maeve added, then blinked innocently when her mother shot her a fierce look.
“Can’t a mother care for the well-being of her children?”
“Perhaps we should have this conversation when you aren’t brandishing a fire iron,” Tom suggested.
His mother set the metal rod down before setting her hands on her hips. “Youdoseem distracted lately and not quite yourself, and there’s one remedy that will surely calm you. A wife.”
The verylastthing he needed or wanted in his very complicated life.
“Mam, no.”
“Maeve agrees with me.”
Tom glared at his sister. “Judas.”
“Think on what Mam says,” Maeve said, her gaze starry. “It’s such a wondrous thing, to have someone to confide in, someone you can’t stop thinking about. Someone with whom you can be your truest self. It’s a marvel.”
His already frayed forbearance nearly snapped. This was not a conversation he wanted to have—not now, at any rate. Not when he was filled with thoughts of Lucia, remembering the lush silken feel of her body against his, the taste of her. How her touch calmed the tempest within him, yet her gaze set him aflame.
He could never bring her to Northfield House—not through the front door. He couldn’t introduce her to Maeve or his mother. They’d never dine together or play spillikins or sit in quiet comfort near the fire, safely nestled within the walls of his ancestral home. Lucia could never be a part of his world.
“I’m going to bed,” he said, turning away.
“But, Tommy lad—” his mother protested.
“Good night.” He kissed Maeve’s cheek and then his mother’s and hurried out of the parlor as fast as he could without breaking into a full run.
He reached his chamber and disrobed before slipping on a dressing gown. After pouring himself a glass of whiskey, he sat beside the fire in his chamber, turning Maeve’s words over and over.It’s a marvel.
But she was fortunate. Though it was better for her to make an advantageous match, she could select a husband of her choosing, letting her heart guide her decision. And her heart had made its choice.
Tom could not afford to be so lucky.
By noon on Sunday, he paced his study, gut churning in anxious anticipation of the following day—and taking a public stance against Brookhurst. God, if only he could get it over with, rather than this... inaction.
More than anything, he needed Lucia. Her sagacity. Her bravery. She inspired him to be something better than he was. He believed in himself when he was with her.
The hell with it.
He ordered his carriage, and in short order was on his way to Bloomsbury. The journey took far too long.
Elspeth answered the door when he knocked. She held a piece of toast and took a meditative bite as she regarded him on the front step, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.
“She’s in her room.” Elspeth stepped back to permit him entrance.
“My thanks,” he managed to say before bounding up the stairs.
Energy crackled through him as he took the steps with long strides. He felt certain he looked like a display in a lecture on the wonders of electricity, bright arcs tracing from his body in all directions.
The door to Lucia’s room stood open. She sat on her bed cross-legged, her brow furrowed as she read a book.
The agitation within him calmed, even as his heart thudded to see her again.
