Page 81 of When a Marquis Chooses a Bride
The duchess’s eyes twinkled, but she replied sternly, “Silvia, I find your manners no better than before you put your hair up.”
Lady Thornhill eyes misted as she grinned broadly. “I have missed you. We do not see nearly enough of you.”
The woman hugged Lady Thornhill. “Still a baggage.”
“Yes. Does it please you?”
“Indeed it does.” Her Grace motioned for Thea to come up. “I believe you have already met my granddaughter, Dorothea?”
Dom stopped, dumbstruck.
Granddaughter?Thank God he had never suggested she needed to train as a marchioness. He would have looked a fool.
Lady Thornhill turned to Thea. “Yes. She is the image of you.”
He studied the duchess then Thea. The resemblance was remarkable. Thea’s features were a younger, more rounded version of her grandmother’s, who was still an extremely good-looking woman.
Thea gave her grandmother a perplexed look. “I didn’t realize you and Lady Thornhill were so close.”
“Silvia is my goddaughter. After her mother died, I sponsored her for her first Season.”
Dom stifled a groan and stepped forward. The pieces fell into place like a puzzle he’d just solved. No wonder Thea was so self-possessed and appeared at ease in almost any situation. He caught her eye, motioning his head slightly toward her grandmother.
She held out her hand to him. “Grandmamma, may I introduce my betrothed, Lord Merton? My lord, my grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Bristol.”
The older woman regarded him with a gimlet eye. “Merton, I never thought to see you here, yet, I am delighted you are.”
He could hardly believe this charming woman was the Duke of Bristol’s mother. A more bitter man Dom had yet to meet.
He took the hand she offered and bowed over it. If that was a test, it appeared he had passed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
His plan to treat Thea’s relations with the proper amount of well-bred condescension, thereby depressing any overly familiar behavior on their part, shattered. For a moment, he had trouble taking it all in. Her family connections could hardly be a secret, but no one had said a word to him. Even Alvanley hadn’t known.
Her Grace regally inclined her head. “You two run along. I am sure you have more interesting conversations in which to take part.”
Thea tucked her hand in his arm. “Thank you, Grandmamma.”
His betrothed led him to a window seat on the other side of the room from the artists. “I’m glad to see you, but what brings you here?”
“My mother, and finding a drawing master for Tom.”
Her brows drew together. “Still no word from his family?”
Dom shook his head. “Nothing and what is strange to me is that Tom never asks. He takes it as a matter of course that his father will return whenever he arrives.”
“Heisin the army. Perhaps that is just the way of things for him. Grandmamma said Lord Stratton is an odd egg.” Thea pulled her lush bottom lip between her teeth and Dom wanted to ravish her mouth. “You don’t mind that Tom may be with you for a while yet?”
“You mean be with us if no one claims him before his father returns.”
Her gentle smile tugged at his heart. “I am not bothered at all. The fact is that I’m growing quite attached to him.”
“As am I.” Which was part of the problem. “The longer Tom is with me, the harder it will be to give him up, and he would be better off with his family.”
“Not if they do not want him.”
Her tone was so fierce Dom ceased his casual perusal of the room and stared at her. “You think there is some sort of break with the family?”
“If not, then why were Tom and his mother not residing at Stanton House or at one of the estates?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “The earl has a number of properties. Surely one of them could have been given over to her, particularly in her condition. Do you not remember that was one of Mrs. White’s requirements? That there be no close family.”
