Thomas stalked the length of the Duke of Lesterwich’s drawing room. He had called upon his friend as soon as he had arrived in London. The time was 3:00 p.m., and his friend, of course, was still retired, no doubt having had a rambunctious evening. He threw back the glass of port and poured himself another, since even Lesterwich’s staff had noted his black mood and scurried out of sight instead of waiting on him. They were a discreet and loyal staff, compensated handsomely to stay silent about His Grace’s activities. That courtesy extended to His Grace’s friends, and Thomas had spent many an evening of debauchery at this home.
This is no time to reminisce, it is my own impulsive depravity that has landed me in this predicament!
Thomas could not recall a prior period where he had spent this much time berating himself. In fact, he rarely saw any error in his ways. Maribel’s hurt expression appeared before him, and he felt his lip curl into a scowl. He could not decide if he was angrier at her innocent inexperience or at himself for feeling a flicker of guilt, for once.
“She is naught but a governess!” he spat out, throwing himself down on a winged chair, exasperated with himself.
“Ahh, the governess. She must be more than just a simple governess.” Marcus, the Duke of Lesterwich, stood in the doorway smiling. And in his hand was a letter.
“I see my correspondence arrived before I did.”
“Indeed, it did. So, you forgive me for not being here to welcome you as soon as you arrived, but I gathered you would still be pining in the country for this decadent-sounding governess.”
Marcus took a seat opposite him, spinning the letter through his fingers, clearly amused by the sight of his friend.
“I am glad you are taking such joy in my misfortune.”
“I do not take joy in your misfortune. It is more a gleeful satisfaction to see and read you—” Marcus shook the letter at him “—so muddled. And by a woman, no less. Nay, and by a governess.”
Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, he shook one menacingly at his friend, who simply laughed.
“I will stop nettling you despite the joy it is giving me, lest we resort to fisticuffs.” Marcus held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly still amused.
“Marcus, I am at a loss. Over a woman? Can you believe it?” Marcus was not only one of his closest friends, but a fellow member of the Wayward Duke Alliance, an alliance of dukes who could confide in and rely on one another. This issue he was facing was an embarrassing one, and he would prefer it not be made public. For all Marcus’s nettling, he knew he could trust the man to say nothing.
“It is quite strange. I must admit your attitude towards woman is generally one of contempt. You take your pleasure and then take your leave. I cannot recall you ever wooing and courting a woman.”
“That is exactly right! Not even with women more suitable to my station!”
“You know, you sound every bit the wiseacre when you speak this way?” Marcus asked with raised brows. His friend wore his red hair long, so for a moment, they disappeared.
“That is not my intent—it is simply fact,” he retorted stubbornly.
“Let me ask you this, have you made these ‘facts’ known to Miss Lewisham?”
“I may have.” The impact of his actions dawned on him.
Am I really that rude and insensitive? Yes.
“That is simply who I am, though. And I have never cared before how it may come across?” He asked himself and Marcus the question, hoping that, between the two of them, they would solve this problem.
“I think you have genuine emotion for her. Something you have not felt in a long time, if ever.”
“I have barely known her a sennight!” He shook his head at his friend.
“I do not think that matters. Emotions cannot always be explained—they are not logical. They are feelings.”
“When did you become such a goosecap?”
Marcus laughed.
“I have always been more mature in the ways of the heart. That’s why I have so many long-term female acquaintances that I can call upon at any time. You, on the other hand, become easily bored and easily insensitive due to your lack of care.”
“Some friend you are,” he said gruffly. “Well, Marcus, since you are the one with all the answers, what should I do?”
“I think you need to apologise. And then I think you need to decide what it is you want and be honest and expect to be rejected. You may want a tryst, while she may not. What I do know from your letter is that you are besotted with her. And if you want her to continue in your employ, you need to determine how far you want to pursue the matter.”
Thomas knew his friend spoke true, and begrudgingly, he nodded.
