Page 71 of Duke of Emeralds
Hester wanted to weep. Instead, she braced her hand against the doorframe and watched.
Thomas nodded solemnly. “The ducks here are a law unto themselves, I’ve heard. Did ye feed them with good bread, or did ye sneak them bits of cake?”
Bella grinned, showing a missing tooth. “Cake! Miss Anna said it was only proper to spoil them once in a while.”
“Anna is wise.” Thomas ruffled the girl’s hair then straightened, dusting imaginary crumbs from his sleeve. He caught sight of Hester, then, and his entire demeanor shifted—softer, somehow, but also brighter. He grinned, and for a moment he looked nothing like a Duke and everything like a rogue who’d gotten away with something.
“I was wondering where I might find my Duchess,” he said, bowing with mock gravity. “I am sorry for arriving unannounced, but I thought?—”
She stopped him with a look, torn between relief and annoyance. “You are supposed to be in Dorset.”
He shrugged, all broad shoulders and calm certainty. “That was the plan. But I reckoned you might need me here.” He gestured to Bella, who had sidled up to his leg, one hand wrapped possessively around his knee. “And she told me, first thing, that no one in this city can make porridge like I can. I couldnae leave her to starve.”
Hester snorted then remembered herself and smoothed her hair. “You traveled all night for a bowl of porridge?”
He stepped forward, every inch the Duke again, and took her hand—hers, not the outstretched hand of a socialite or a wife butherhand, which he lifted and kissed before she could protest. She felt the warmth of his lips through the skin, the jolt of connection, and then the slow, aching return of everything she’d worked so hard to suppress.
“I traveled all night because I thought ye might require my company,” he said more quietly.
She tried to keep her voice steady. “You are prescient. I was just about to send a letter to summon you.”
“Shall I pretend to be surprised?” He cocked a brow, eyes alight.
Hester shook her head. “We have trouble. We need to speak privately.” Her voice caught, and she hated it, hated the way her throat seemed to close at the ends of words—so much for composure.
He nodded without asking, and with a gentle squeeze that was all the more infuriating for being so perfectly attuned to her, he drew her toward the nearest empty salon. The morning sun pooled in trembling puddles on the carpet. He closed the door, the click soft, and waited.
Hester paced once then twice then turned on him. She thrust the gossip sheet at Thomas, whose broad hands dwarfed the page. It looked almost comic, except for the way his jaw set as he read. He did not interrupt, only let his eyes move across the lines, his thumb slowly creasing the page as he went.
When he finished, he let his hand fall. “I see.” He looked at her, but there was no shock, only a cold, steady light. “Who brought this to you?”
“Miss Holt,” Hester said. “But it hardly matters. Everyone will have seen it by breakfast.” She pressed her nails into her palm. “I walked with Bella in Hyde Park yesterday. They must have seen her and began speculating.” The words spilled in frantic waves.
Thomas crossed the space between them. She thought he might rebuke her or worse, offer some bland reassurance. Instead, he took her by the shoulders—gently, but with a force that steadied her, as if anchoring her in place. His thumbs pressed a careful warmth through the fabric of her robe.
“They’ll say what they please,” he said. “They always do. But it’s not your burden to carry alone, Hester.”
She shook her head, pressing the heels of her hands to her brow. “You don’t understand. If it were only me—” She could not finish. The muscles of her jaw twitched. “I can’t let them do this to the child.”
He pulled her in and wrapped both arms around her, holding tight, and for a moment she could not think, only feel: the heat of his chest, the thrum of his heart, the harsh wool of his coat against her knuckles. She waited for him to let go, but he did not.
“You’re frightened,” he murmured against her hair. “But I have weathered worse than this, and so have you. Let me take care of it.”
She couldn’t breathe, not properly. Every inch of her wanted to lean into him, to let the moment collapse into something dangerous and real. Her face pressed against his shirtfront, and she felt the rise and fall of his breath, the way it matched hers, and loathed herself for needing it.
He set his chin on her crown, a ridiculous, intimate gesture, and she almost laughed. Thomas pulled back and looked down at her then tucked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up.
“I did promise ye that ye willnae cry while ye are me wife. I will take care of this nonsense.”
“Thank you, Thomas.”
He smiled then let her go and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER 31
“My darlings! My darlings!” Patience sang out as Hester and Thomas crossed the threshold into the Hightower drawing room. “Oh, come to me at once, both of you!”
She looked resplendent in a dark green dress that was several years out of fashion, and she rushed forward with arms wide as if she meant to sweep her daughter and the Duke up in one fell embrace.
