Page 85 of Dare to Love a Duke
“Explain yourself, Northfield,” Brookhurst said hotly.
Steadying himself, Tom lifted his eyebrow. “You are not entitled to an explanation.”
“I should say I am.”
“Sirrah—” Greyland said, his voice tight, but Tom held up his hand.
“Despite your belief,” Tom said levelly to Brookhurst, “I amnotmy father. My votes shall henceforth be cast according to my own beliefs. Not his, and certainly not yours. Further, I decline the investment opportunity you presented to me.”
“There are consequences to your actions.” Brookhurst’s cheeks darkened further, while his tone had risen in pitch. “Either today’s vote was a singularity, and youwillback the canal venture, or you and your family will face those consequences.”
Tom narrowed his eyes, his anger surging. “Threats are unbecoming to a peer.”
“Threats have the possibility of not being carried out. However, what I speak of will come to pass.”
“Then end this wearying conversation and be about your business.”
The lords observing the exchange between Tom and Brookhurst murmured with distress and disbelief, though Greyland watched it all with an unreadable expression.
Brookhurst pointed a finger at Tom. “The marriage between your sister and my son will never occur. Rely on it.”
The room spun around Tom, but he kept his footing. Fury gave him balance and steadied him. “Lady Maeve would rather have a brother who conducts himself honorably than a bridegroom who is his father’s puppet.”
“Outrageous.” The duke took a step back. “Resign yourself to ignominy,Your Grace.”
Brookhurst swung around, then marched off, a miasma of fury trailing in his wake.
Tom let out one long exhale. There. It was done.
“I cannot believe Brookhurst has reduced himself to threatening a fellow duke,” Ashford said in astonishment.
“The wordnois an abomination to him,” Greyland replied. “He makes certain that he never hears it. What do you think he means to do, Northfield?”
The reverberations of anxiety and anger still hummed through Tom’s body. If someone asked him to hurl a boulder weighing three hundred pounds, he could do it. “I can’t say. Whatever it is, he’ll find me no easy target.”
The men surrounding him murmured their approval. If only Blakemere had returned from Cornwall. Tom’s friend had been a soldier, and could give him much-needed guidance when it came to readying for battle. Because a battle was coming, and Tom had to be prepared to ensure that those he cared about survived.
Lucia had been in her room, reviewing the ledger for her personal finances, when Elspeth appeared in the doorway.
“You’re wanted downstairs.” Her friend wore an inscrutable smile.
“The sugar delivery’s here already?” Usually, Mr. Kapoor came later in the day, but he was the only vendor she expected on Mondays.
“Our visitorissweet, but he’s not Mr. Kapoor.”
At once, Lucia knew who awaited her. She rose and hurriedly shelved the ledger before smoothing a hand over her hair and tugging on the bodice of her dress. It had only been a day since she’d last seen him, but that time had passed with agonizing slowness.
“Oh, leave off that,” Elspeth said with a wave. “In his eyes, you’re encircled by rainbows and he hears the strum of fairy harps.”
“It’s not like that.” Lucia hastened from her room, with her friend following.
“And what if it is? Would it be so terrible?”
Lucia feared the answer, much as she craved it. She’d done what she could to shelter and protect herself, but Tom snuck past her defenses. The mere thought of him brought a smile to her lips and a buoyancy to her heart.
She found him in the foyer, standing beside a large trunk. At her approach down the stairs, he gazed up at her, nearly making her stumble with the sheer joy in his glance.
“You see?” Elspeth murmured behind her. “Rainbows and fairy harps.”
