Page 20 of Marry in Secret
“In case you were caught with a bast—” Aunt Agatha began.
“It wouldn’t have been a bastard!” Rose felt her face crumpling. She fought it. “Because hemarriedme!”
“Pah! He married you, gel, because—”
Emm cut her off. “That’s enough! All this happened in the past and there’s nothing any of us can do to change it. Recriminations are both pointless and unnecessarily hurtful. It is Rose’s welfare now that must concern us, and how we—and she—are to go on in the future. And until Cal and Ned return with Mr. Beresford—and until Rose gets a chance to talk with Mr. Beresford alone, and decides what she wants, nothing can be decided.” She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. “I cannot think what can be keeping them so long.”
“A good horsewhipping, I hope,” Aunt Agatha muttered.
***
Galbraith’s valet took Thomas upstairs to a small dressing room. Indicating a plain polished dressing table with a chair facing a looking glass, he said, “If you’d care to wait here, sir, I’ll arrange your bath.” Without waiting for an answer, he hurried off.
It was a gentleman’s dressing room, elegantly appointed but plain and practical, containing, as well as the dressing table, two large wardrobes, a high chest of drawers, and a comfortable-looking armchair and small table next to the window. A large enameled bath sat before the fireplace, currently empty.
Thomas wouldn’t have minded a fire. His clothes were thin and he hadn’t yet acclimatized.
He wandered to the window and gazed out at the vista of roofs and chimneys, the faint haze of smoke, even in spring, a glimpse of waving treetops indicating a nearby park. In the street below, carriages rattled past, and a nursemaid strolled along with her two young charges, heading for the park, no doubt. Two servants bustled past, baskets in hand, heading for the market perhaps.
All perfectly ordinary sights, but not to Thomas, not today.London. England. Home.He couldn’t quite believe it.
“I thought we could trim your beard and cut off the worst—er, the better part of your hair before the bath, sir,” Enders announced from behind him. “Let the hot water soften the bristles.” He waved Thomas to the dressing table and opened a leather case containing shaving implements and scissors. Two footmen arrived carrying large cans of steaming water and began to fill the bath.
Thomas sat and for the first time in years saw his reflection.
Good God! Was this what he looked like now? He stared. Lord, if he’d seen a drawing of himself—one of those clever charcoal drawings that artists did in the marketplace for a few coppers—he wouldn’t have known himself.
No wonder Rose hadn’t recognized him. He looked like a wild man. A savage. He recalled the expressions of those people in the church when he’d turned and faced them down. He grinned. They must have thought him a barbarian come among them.
His grin faded. This was who he was now, who he’d been for most of the last four years. This grim-faced, barbaric-looking savage. And the change wasn’t only skin deep.
No wonder her family had banded around her. Protecting her from him.
She’d been about to marry a duke.
Did she love the fellow? Impossible to tell.
Irrelevant now anyway, now that Thomas had returned.
Her family wanted him gone, that was clear. Of course they’d want a duke instead of the man they saw now.
No matter. He’d fought tooth and nail to get back to England, and he’d fight tooth and nail to keep Rose—as long as she wanted him, that is.
And that was the question. Did she want him? Or would she side with her brother to have their wedding annulled so she could marry her duke?
If she didn’t want him, if she wanted her duke and all he could offer, did Thomas have the right to keep her? Legally, perhaps, but morally? Did anyone have the right to hold another person against their will?
But as well as rights, Thomas had obligations. And in his current situation he needed Rose—and her fortune—more than ever.
He stared again at the man in the mirror. He wasn’t exactly a bargain. The contrast between him and her duke couldn’t be stronger; the duke was rich, established and titled. Thomas was impoverished, homeless, forgotten and disowned—repudiated by his closest relatives.
And damaged, let’s not forget that,he reminded himself.
Was he even fit to live with her, after the life he’d lived?
Did he have a choice?
A different man, a better man would offer to release her from her vows, those vows forced by circumstance andyouth and impulsive, reckless lovemaking. Let her go to her precious duke, who couldn’t even be bothered to fight for her.
