Page 173 of His Grace, the Duke
Heart fluttering, she stepped through the door to see all three of her men standing together in James’ bedroom. Burke and James were already changed for the ball, their crisply cut black evening coats framing their broad shoulders. But Tom was clearly only just back. He was still in his travel clothes.
“Tell me what?” she said, pausing in the doorway, her hands on her hips.
Her men turned as one to face her.
“Bloody hell,” Tom muttered, his blue eyes wide as they trailed from her head down to her slippered feet and back up.
Burke’s mouth curled into a devilish smile, while next to him James went still as stone.
“Don’t tell me what?” She leveled her stare at Tom. His pained look gave everything away. Her heart sank through her chest. “You’ve been called out.”
He nodded.
It was then she noticed the thickly folded piece of parchment in his hand. No doubt they were his new orders. She glanced from Burke to James, fighting to keep her tone casual and her tears at bay. They’d all known this was coming, but it still felt too soon. She wasn’t ready for everything to change. “How long do we have?” she murmured.
“Two weeks,” Tom replied.
She swallowed, doing her best to find him a smile. “And how long will you be gone?”
“Six months.”
She breathed a sigh of... what was this feeling? Relief? Loss? Acceptance? It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Tom had spent the last two weeks preparing her for a reality where he was gone for a whole twelve-month, or relocated altogether, like Hartington who was leaving for a new posting in Jamaica just after the new year.
“This changes nothing,” Tom said, stepping closer.
“I know,” she replied.
“Six months will hardly be noticeable,” said Burke with a false smile. “It’s barely enough time to even start missing you. Before we know it, you’ll be back, eating all the chicken and hogging half the bed.”
Neither Rosalie nor Tom shared his hollow laugh. Jamesstood still and silent as the grave. Slowly, Tom turned to face him. “Christ, J. Say something.”
“I told you I would buy you out if that’s what you wanted,” James replied, his tone flat. “You said no, and now you must leave us.”
“I’m notleavingyou.” Tom tossed his orders on the end of the bed and crossed over to him, placing both hands on his shoulders.
James stiffened.
“Over the cliff, and over again. That was the vow I made, and I intend to keep it. Work calls me away, but I will return in six months,” he said, letting his gaze drift from James to Burke to Rosalie.
“That work being fighting for King and country in the middle oftwowars,” James replied. “They could send you to the Americas—”
“They won’t,” Tom replied. “It’s to be the Mediterranean. Italy and Greece, Malta, perhaps Constantinople, but then back again. Six short months. Please, J.” He cupped his face with one hand, and James stiffened further.
Rosalie understood his anxiety. James was always slowest to accept change. He wasn’t angry or resentful about Tom keeping his job in the navy, he was just afraid. His fear was urging him to pull back, retreat, fortify the walls of his emotions. He needed someone to drag him back from the ledge before he tipped into darkness.
Burke stepped in before she could, clapping a hand on both Tom’s and James’ shoulders. “Right, well we have a fortnight to accept Tom’s news, but for now we have over a hundred guests filling the rooms downstairs. We cannot possibly go down there looking as if we are attending our own funerals.” He castRosalie a reassuring smile, adding, “Besides, it’s Christmas, remember? We must appear jolly and joyous. Surely, we can focus on that for tonight instead of Tom’s leaving.”
James was still too quiet. Tom dropped his hands away from his shoulders, looking defeated.
“At the very least,” Burke tried again, “can we not all acknowledge the way our goddess floated into our midst? For the first time in her life, she is bedecked with a tiara denoting her proper station. James, for the love of God, do you of all people have no comment?”
James let his eyes settle on her. She saw the heat there, the need. He was aching with it. Between the dowager’s sudden reappearance and Tom’s upsetting news, he was feeling out of control. Her Atlas hated nothing more than a loss of control.
She lifted her chin and smiled. “Well, Your Grace? Do I pass muster?”
He gave a curt nod, the darkness receding somewhat from his eyes. “Yes.”
Tom had turned too, crossing over to her with a smile. “How much time do we have? I want to get lost in your cunt before I’m forced to go mingle.” His thumb brushed over her bottom lip. “My sweet girl. My life, my love.” He made to grab for her dress, but she instinctively thrust out a hand, pressing it flat against his chest.
