Clara found the musical sheets and began to practice enthusiastically.
Maribel was pleased that Thomas had made the suggestion to include Clara. Her sweet face had lit up with joy at the invitation and proven that Thomas had been listening to Maribel. He was right—she was teaching him, and he was acting upon it. Taking her seat again, she listened to the music that filled the room and was content. A feeling she never would have expected to come from Thomas, recalling their first encounter and his stiff airs. Suppressing a laugh, she clapped at the end of Clara’s song.
“Now a Haydn, Lady Clara. Bravo.”
Chapter Twenty
Clara had made him very proud with her musical performance, and he continued to be impressed with the progress Maribel was making with his child. She had played beautifully, eaten her meal with pristine manners, and left to retire without a tantrum. Even Marcus was shocked, having known how Clara could be, and he lavished praise on Maribel’s talents as a governess.
Thomas had forgotten how annoyingly charming Marcus was. The dashing rogue had arrived unannounced under the guise of wanting to check in on his friend. Bah, more so that he was awash in curiosity to set eyes upon the woman who had tied me up in knots.
“Why are you here, Marcus?” Those were the first words he had spoken to his friend when he had suddenly appeared in his drawing room.
“Is that any way to greet a friend?”
“Depends on my friend’s motives as to why he has made the laborious trip from London.”
“Well, besides my genuine need to ensure your wellbeing, I will also admit that—given the twists and turns this woman had you in—I had to see her with my own eyes.”
Thomas scowled and stood, waving a clenched fist in the air at his oldest and closest friend.
“She is not for you, Marcus. She is mine and mine alone.”
“So, you bedded her?” Oh, how Thomas wanted to strike the smug look from his face.
“That is none of your business.”
“Oh, really now? Since when do we not divulge to one another our dalliances?”
“She is not a dalliance!”
“She is at least twenty years your junior—what else could she be?”
Thomas was ready to spew a barrage of insults at his friend when he saw the twinkle in his eye. Marcus was baiting him. And he had fallen for it like the dolt he was.
“So, you are here to observe my descent into madness?”
“I guess love is a kind of madness.”
“Love?” The word sounded foreign but was also a word that encompassed all the emotion building up inside him.
“How else can you explain it?”
The simple way Marcus spoke did not simplify his feelings. His heart was beating alarmingly fast, and a sweat had broken out on his palms.
How can I be in love with Maribel? Miss Lewisham, the governess?
“My brain is a mire! I cannot think!”
“Calm yourself, my friend, calm. Why don’t you arrange for a scrumptious meal where you, Maribel, and I can get acquainted, and let me see if I can help you make sense of the situation?”
The lilt of Maribel’s laugh broke through his reverie, and he glared at the pair who had warmed to one another instantly. Jealousy, a feeling previously as uncommon to him as love, now lurked in the pit of his stomach.
“You must have read more books than anyone else I have met, Miss Lewisham. It is no wonder you are drawn to teaching. How much knowledge you have to impart on the blank canvas that is youth.”
Thomas watched her blush that pretty shade of rose he had come to adore because of the compliment paid by Marcus. It sickened him.
“If you two are done with your fawning, I would remind you both that I am also here.”
