“Perfect. I don’t believe our group of ladies will need much from him during the voyage or our stay in Sardinia. Still, I should at least introduce myself as the lead of our trip,” Sarah said.
Addie giggled. “He is very attractive.”
Sarah looked at her, perplexed. “It matters not to me.”
Lisbeth shook her head. “Let’s discuss the plans for the epic.”
*
Thomas sat inLisbeth’s study. He called it that because it disconcerted him to call it the duke’s, but that was what it was. Lisbeth wasn’t entirely wrong when she stated he needed to think about what it meant to have a life with her. Her deceased husband’s title surrounded them.
It unsettled him at times, and he needed to figure out a way to work through his feelings. This home was Lisbeth, Alice, and Jeremy’s space. Thomas couldn’t ask them to leave it. Hell, someday, this study, along with the whole house, would be handed off to Jeremy. He was the duke now, even if he was a child.
Thomas had been pondering the idea of building a country estate, a place where Lisbeth, Jeremy, and Alice could escape to. He wanted something that he could give them. Not that Lisbethor the children needed anything. He frowned. How did he fit into this life?
Morrison stepped into the study. “Mr. Easton, you have a visitor.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you sure I do? It isn’t for Her Grace?”
The butler appeared slightly offended to be questioned. Thomas supposed he shouldn’t have asked. It was, after all, the man’s job to know who was needed. “Sir, it is Lord Harston and Mr. Martin.”
He frowned, confused. It was the president and vice president of the London Society of Antiquaries. “Please escort them to the drawing room. I will meet them in there.”
Morrison nodded and departed. He wondered what the men wanted. From time to time, he associated with Lord Hawley and provided artifacts to the club. Still, because they’d refused Rose entry, he’d never joined them. Now, he certainly wouldn’t. His wife was part of their competing club.
He took his time making his way to the drawing room. The men who’d given Lisbeth and Rose’s club problems could wait for a bit. Thomas smirked, amused and impressed, thinking that the London Society of Antiquaries must be very worried about their club if they were visiting him.
Eventually, Thomas entered the room, and Mr. Martin and Lord Harston turned to face him.
“It is so nice to meet you in person, Mr. Easton,” Martin said, smiling.
He nodded. “Thank you. Yes, I think until now, our communication has only been through letters.”
Harston didn’t seem nearly as happy to meet with him. He stood with his legs wide and his arms folded. “I’m Lord Harston.”
Thomas didn’t bother to bow. He already didn’t like this man for various reasons he’d heard from Lisbeth and Rose. This wasthe man who had attempted to hold the ancient map hostage so Rose couldn’t finish deciphering the club’s cuneiform epic.
Harston turned a blotchy red, offended by his lack of deference. Thomas motioned to the wingback chairs and sofa. “Can I get you both something to drink?”
They shook their heads but sat. Thomas joined them, sitting in an elegant navy wingback chair. Martin seemed nervous. Lisbeth had mentioned that his daughter was part of the Historical Society for Female Curators, but Martin had never attended any of their events. Apparently, Harston went to every one of them to be a nuisance.
“Now that you are settling in London, Mr. Easton, we’d like to offer you a permanent lecture position at the London Society of Antiquaries,” Martin said.
Thomas should have been shocked, but he knew that even though Harston was looking at him with contempt, if he accepted a position with this men’s club, it would be mainly to their benefit.
“Would there be a conflict because my wife is part of the Historical Society for Female Curators?”
Harston’s mouth twisted in distaste. “We’d assumed you’d ask her to step down from her position at her club.”
Ahh…that was their game. They wanted to use him in hopes Lisbeth would leave her role at her club. Thomas looked at Martin. “Isn’t your daughter part of the Historical Society for Female Curators?”
“Yes, but she isn’t a duchess,” Harston snapped.
Even Martin flinched at the condescending man’s tone. Martin cleared his throat. “My daughter has long ago decided her sole focus in life would be the study of artifacts. She is particularly interested in Roman and Renaissance art. She doesn’t frequent societal events or cause gossip.”
“What your daughter and the other ladies have achieved to date is quite remarkable. I would think, as the president of an antiquities club, you’d be interested in their work.”
The man shifted uncomfortably, but Harston changed the subject, oblivious to the awkwardness swirling around them. “It wouldn’t look right if she stayed on with the Historical Society for Female Curators. I mean, it is already questionable that she is marrying a commoner—”
