‘Cast me as cold, and unfeeling, my lord, if that is your wish,’ she bit back. ‘But know that I am neither. What I am is acutely aware of my duty. To this house, to you and most importantly to myself.’
‘And nothing will prevent you from doing it?’
‘No, my lord. Now, if there is nothing else?’
‘You have everything in hand, it seems, Mrs Hardwicke,’ he said, turning back to the window, unable to bear the sight of her any longer, lest he give way to the urge to rush over and shake her from her damned composure. ‘I shall not detain you from yourduty.’
He listened to her retreating footsteps, heard them pause momentarily before the door was opened and shut again.
Liam knew he should be jubilant. Any other man would leap for joy at the realisation he would face no anger, no tears, no pleas. Any other man would laugh with relief at the prospect he would face no consequences from the unholy relationship. That he wasfree. But Liam felt only hurt. He was not free. He would never be free of her. Though she was apparently of him.
Things between them had always been more than simple. More than master and servant. He had returned to Thornhallow to break the hold the house had upon him, and instead he’d entangled himself in a far more perilous way.
I suppose I should thank you, Thomas...
Liam suspected the old butler had had more than just preparedness in mind when he’d warned Rebecca of their guests. That little act of underhandedness saved him from delivering the news himself. Saved him from making an utter and complete fool of himself, debasing himself beyond reparation in the face of his housekeeper. The damned old butler had subtly found a way to set everything back to its proper place.
I should be grateful, but I regret that you denied me a glimpse past her otherwise impenetrable armour...
A ride. That was what he needed to clear his mind. Fresh air—that would do the trick. The snow was nothing he and Orpheus couldn’t handle.
Abandoning any hope of work for the day, Liam strode out of the study, grabbed his coat, scarf and hat before Gregory even realised he was there, and marched out to the stables.
Damn you, Spencer. Damn you, Rebecca. And damn this house.
Chapter Twenty
The grandfather clock in the hall had just rung ten when a carriage was heard on the drive. Mr Brown, who had been attentively awaiting the arrival, rang for the others immediately, and within seconds the hall was filled with the animated fluttering of the staff as they made for the door.
They were perfectly lined up outside, looking fresh and spotless, when Liam joined them. He swept a disaffected gaze of inspection over them all, before Mr Brown was graced with a nod of approval.
Rebecca, he dared not even look in the eye. Facing what he must, he could not bear to look at her, and be any more tortured than he already was. Enough had been said. There was nothing more to be done but greet his guests and move on.
Plastering as jovial and welcoming a smile as he could manage, he straightened, and stepped before them all to greet the carriage.
Within seconds, it pulled up, and the door swung open.
‘Reid, you rascal!’ the Marquess of Clairborne shouted in his usual warm, slightly mocking tone as he descended with a hop, hand extended, barely looking like someone who had been travelling.
He hadn’t changed at all since Liam had last seen him. The same boyish looks, golden curls and clear blue eyes, the same cheeky smile. He was as impeccably dressed as ever, his dark pantaloons, vibrantly green waistcoat, crisp linen shirt, blue jacket and billowing greatcoat all perfectly tailored in the latest fashion and finest materials. There was not a crease to be found; even the Gordian knot of his cravat had withstood the travails of travel.
‘It’s been too long, old fellow,’ he said, with that grin which had cost many a woman her wits and heart.
‘Indeed it has,’ Liam agreed, shaking Spencer’s hand warmly. Truth be told, hewaspleased to see him. ‘Welcome to Thornhallow.’
‘Should’ve waited for an invite, I know, old chap, but I feared one would never come. As we were spending the festive season not a hundred miles away, I couldn’t resist surprising you. Besides, I really had to get out of Clairborne House.’
‘How are your mother and Mary?’ Liam asked.
‘Yes, jolly well, they send their regards, of course,’ he laughed. ‘Had to beat them off with a stick, they wanted to join so. But I thought we should save the larger reunion for another time.’
Spencer winked and Liam thanked his stars the whole family hadn’t come.
Beat them off with a stick, indeed.
It wouldn’t surprise him if it were actually true in this instance.
‘Ah, here is my good friend Mr Walton,’ the Marquess continued, indicating the simply but elegantly dressed and rather pleasant-looking young man just descending from the carriage. ‘Walton owns a shipping company—don’t you, Freddie?’
