‘Goodnight, Miss Merrickson.’
Rebecca’s eyes did not leave the floor until she’d heard his footsteps traverse the hall and climb the stairs.
Not until she had heard the distant echo of Liam’s door closing did she raise her head, tears pricking at the back of her eyes, feeling utterly bereft and lost. Pushing away everything that had just happened, Rebecca finished seeing to her duties.
An hour later, however, safely ensconced in her bed, she finally allowed herself to cry the tears which had threatened to fall since she and Liam had parted.
For everything was always better once one had cried.
Chapter Sixteen
Thomas’s rather loud and abrupt opening of the curtains, along with the outpouring of stark, bright winter morning light, woke Liam with a start. He blinked, the sun’s rays piercing through the foggy mist of his still half-asleep mind.
He’d barely slept. Most of the night he’d spent tossing and turning, the events of the previous evening repeating themselves in an endless loop. Not until the sun had begun its ascent had he finally managed to drift off into a dreamless, restless sleep.
He wondered grimly if someone else in this house had spent such a wretched night.
‘Good morning, my lord,’ the old butler said, somewhat too cheerfully for Liam’s taste. ‘I trust you slept well?’
‘Quite,’ Liam lied, knowing that after yesterday’s festivities nothing less would be expected. ‘Thank you, Thomas. You enjoyed yourself?’
‘Yes, my lord. And if I may say so,’ Mr Brown said, lighting the newly laid fire, ‘it was a delightful surprise to have you join us.’
‘Thank you, Thomas.’
‘Will you be having breakfast downstairs?’ he asked, resuming his normal self. ‘Or shall I have it sent up?’
‘I will come down, I think, Thomas, but, please, no hurry. And I shall dress myself this morning. As I recall, I instructed you all to take the day...’
‘Yes, my lord, as you wish.’
‘Go.’ Liam waved at him, sitting up in his bed, not quite ready to leave it entirely. ‘I order you to find something to amuse yourself, Thomas.’
‘Very well, my lord.’
‘If you could, however, ask everyone to find me at some point this afternoon in my study? I have something for you all. A belated St Stephen’s gift, as it were.’
‘I shall tell them, my lord,’ he said with a bow, heading for the door. ‘A kind and sure to be much appreciated gesture, I’m sure.’
With that, he left Liam to his quiet, lazy solitude.
Liam wondered for a moment what indeed the old retainer would find to occupy his time. He’d come to the realisation, when trying to decide on everyone’s gifts, that he did not in fact know much about Thomas. About who he was, beneath the mask of dutiful butler. A sad thought, considering he’d known the man his entire life.
Though he’d been brought up to be the master, prepared with every lesson, every moment, to be a proper lord, he’d never truly been able to reconcile himself to the notion. When he’d left for the New World and discovered a society without such expectations, when he had found a society where any man could rise, given he had the will...it had opened his eyes and he’d felt, for the first time, that he’d found a society in which he could live, and believe in. Where his blood did not thrust upon him a way of life he neither desired nor could defend. Where work and industriousness defined the man—not his title, nor his family.
Though his idyllic view of that society had been shattered as well, the precept of it remained nonetheless ingrained within his beliefs.
When he’d joined the staff for their celebrations last night, it had been in that spirit. The spirit of equality. When he’d shared their food and drink, danced with them, he’d felt at home.Thatfelt right. It had convinced him that the course of action he’d set himself upon was the right one—that he would never be his father’s son. Not that he’d ever wished to be. In fact, that was the very last thing he would ever wish for.
The sun’s rays caught upon the crystal of the vase on the mantelpiece, sending rainbows of colour dancing across the wall before him.
Flowers...everywhere... Miss Merrickson and her obsession with flowers...
He smiled to himself. That simple gesture reminded him so much of his mother, and of Hal. They, too, had been intent on filling the house with colour and sweet fragrances. They, too, had sought not to cultivate hordes of exotic species, forcing blooms out of season, but to seek out those blossoms which nature provided at any given time. Uneven, wild and imperfect they may have been, but there had been inexplicable beauty in the simplicity and disorder of the arrangements they’d made. As there was in this one.
Liam’s mind turned inevitably back to the events of the previous night. He wished he could feel as he should. Ashamed. A right cad. But he could not.
That kiss...
