“What?”
“The Malmsby dukedom needs you,” he said. “The Nowlton family needs you. We are an odd lot, and somewhere along the way, we have lost our sense of worth.”
“Lord Lakehurst, that is a powerful statement.”
“Yes. But I think it is true. You have opened my eyes to our dependency. Do you realize it is almost a joke in the household to say ask Aidan to do it? We could say let the Duke's secretary do it, or the estate steward, or Mr. Harold, but more often than not, we do not.Ask Aiden to do itis what we say to each other,” he said lightly.
Then one corner of his mouth quirked up. “You have made me realize that sometimes the expression that swiftly crosses his face is exasperation,” he said seriously. “Why does he never complain or push back? I’m sure there are times he has other things he needs to do for his gallery, when instead he’s trotting off on some request of ours that we or one of the staff might do.”
“Doing things for others feels good. That is how it started for him. Now it is habit,” Bella said.
“You need to marry Nowlton and keep him otherwise occupied,” Lakehurst stated.
Bella laughed. “Why me?”
“Because he loves you,” Lord Lakehurst said simply, with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. He drained his glass in one swallow.
“You are confusing now with three years ago. I’m just hoping he can shed the hate for me he formed back then.”
Lakehurst shook his head and waved a dismissive hand as he stood up. “That was gone immediately that he saw you. I can see that in how he looks at you. Pardon, my lady, but I must bid you adieu,” he said with a flourishing bow. “I’m off to see if I can write a few more pages in this recalcitrant manuscript before sleep claims me.”
“Goodnight, Lord Lakehurst,” Bella replied, smiling at his theatrical parting.
Her smile dimmed as the door to the library closed behind him. She took another sip of the brandy, then set the glass on a table beside the chair. She needed to think, and she didn’t need brandy clouding her thoughts.
She got up to poke the fire, coaxing it to give out a little more heat before it settled into embers, then she sat back down, her feet tucked under her. She leaned her elbow on the armrest and cradled her chin in her hand.
Despite over a three-year separation, Bella admitted she had feelings for Aidan Nowlton, feelings that she strived to ignore, to deny. The effort was a vanity because of the embarrassment she harbored. A way to hide from her mistakes. She’d failed to believe in him when it counted the most. She’d failed him and herself. She did not want to pass blame to another. Yes, Harry had brilliantly set them up. She wanted to believe that love was greater than all the lies in the world.
Don’t be an idealist, Bella, she told herself.
She was being nonsensical and knew it. Fear drove her. Fear that Aidan could never feel for her as she still felt for him. It was easier to deny than to open herself up to the possibility they might rekindle what they had before. If anything, she knew her love to be different. That she couldn’t ignore or deny. She had changed, but so had he. There was more wisdom in her thoughts about him now. A grounded depth that burned greater than that young girl’s love ever had. She must open herself up to the possibility. Stop automatically saying that the things Harry taught her now made her ineligible for love. She needed to get that straight in her head. She was worthy of love, no matter her past. The past was the past and today is today, she told herself fiercely, standing strong, looking toward all her tomorrows.
CHAPTER12
HE LIED
When Nowlton entered the breakfast parlor at Malmsby House the next morning, he expected to find Lady Blessingame partaking of her breakfast. It disappointed him to discover she had already left for Richmond with his mother and Gwinnie. He’d hoped to have time to speak with her before she left. He’d done considerable thinking the night before, wandering through his empty townhouse. They had both changed in the intervening three years; however, not in any way to make them less likely to be attracted to each other. Quite the contrary. He found himself more intrigued by her now than he’d been three years ago. He didn’t remember having an ache inside, crying out to hold her in his arms. He wanted to touch her, anywhere and everywhere. She espoused changes in her that barred their being able to get together. He disagreed. The changes only made the ties stronger.
He wanted to tell her all this, to beg her, if necessary, to give them a chance. He no longer wanted an empty townhouse. Though it had been his respite from the family’s many asks, it no longer gave him a peace he craved. He craved companionship. He craved love. He craved Bella.
He hoped she didn’t fall in love with her Richmond house. It was far from his gallery.
He picked at his breakfast in a desultory fashion until he heard a commotion out in the hall. He straightened to listen, then snorted. It was Lord Candelstone deciding to come downstairs, fussing at the attending footmen and his wife with every step down.
He should finish his breakfast quickly, else Lord Candelstone could give him stomach pains, he mused.
“Ah, Nowlton—good, you’re here,” said Candelstone, as he came into the breakfast parlor.
“Catherine told me something highly interesting from the dinner last night. Highly interesting. Wish I’d paid better attention at the ball,” he said.
Nowlton glared up at Candelstone. “What are you talking about?”
“The shooter. My Catherine figured it out,” he said. He grabbed his wife’s hand and kissed her fingertips.
Lady Candelstone blushed and pulled her hand away.
“Top notch woman. Always has been. She knows make-up and disguise better than any Covent Garden performer or criminal denizen.”
