Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sir Colt Lawrence
I ran a hand along the back of my neck and released a heavy sigh. The last bit of business was finished and my time at the Lawrence Shipping Company was over. It was chilly in the cramped office, and I blinked back exhaustion. Since coming to Liverpool, I seemed to do nothing but work. The business itself was successful, the labor dull as tarnished silver.
“Beg pardon, Sir Colt. Lord Kendrick is here to see you,” Jones said in his distinctive gruff voice.
“Lord Kendrick.” My heart leaped in my throat, and exhilaration rushed through me. I drank in the sight of his broad frame, his wide shoulders enhanced by the fitted greatcoat. The love I felt for him expanded my lungs.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Lord Kendrick gripped the handle of his cane and removed his hat. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, a hint of stubble shadowing his jaw. He never looked more handsome.
“No, of course not. Come in, come in.” I stood, wishing to run around the desk and embrace him. We still had an audience, however. “Thank you, Jones. You can leave. I’ll lock up.”
Jones offered a brief nod and tipped his hat. “Good night, Sir Colt. It’s been a pleasure to work with you.”
“You as well.” I watched him turn on his heel and disappear into the warehouse.
“The man is quitting?” Lord Kendrick asked, striding into the office.
“You were the last person I was expecting to see.” Excitement revitalized my exhaustion. I came around the desk, my mind spinning with innumerable emotions I couldn’t voice. After shutting the door, I held out my hand in greeting, ignoring his question for more pressing ones of my own. “Is Lady Lillian with you?”
Brow furrowed; a familiar troubled look overcame him. He shook my hand, gazing down at it and rubbing his thumb over the pad of my wrist. I ached for him to draw me into his body. Although Jones said he was departing, there was still the matter of the security guard who patrolled the property at night.
“I leave you for a few weeks, and things have fallen into disarray?” I cast him a cajoling grin, unable to articulate how happy I was to see him.
The smile he returned was lackluster. He dropped my hand, abject misery reflected in his stare. “I’m afraid I don’t work well without you.”
My own mood dampened at his distress. Touching him was taboo. Caution at being seen by the guard, keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to continue.
Despite his outwardly polished appearance, he was in turmoil. Circles purpled the crescent under his expressive eyes, and he’d lost weight. “Gavin came to the house, and Lillian walked in on us.”
My sympathy flew out the door. I curled my fingers into fists, the muscles of my arms tightening in outrage on her behalf. Of all the questionable things he’d done, this was by far the worst. “Why would you do that? He is an awful man, and you welcomed him into her home?”
“I didn’t invite him in. He bullied his way into my studio. Nor did I welcome or return his advances. He kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it, and Lillian walked in.” He paced, a caged tiger in an enclosed area.
“Did you explain this to Lillian?” I asked, my anger fading a bit. Gavin was overly aggressive at times, yet another reason why I disliked the man. The actor was used to having everyone fawn over him, and he often got his way by sheer bullying.
“She said she didn’t want to talk to me until I returned from my factory tour.” The duke moved to the small window at the back of the elongated room. He traced a finger down the condensation. “She was furious, and rightly so. I wanted to stay, but I couldn’t miss the trip. The estate ...”
He struggled with his ducal duties, a behemoth task for any man. He'd been spread rather thin with a castle in Scotland and a manor house in Kent and one in Mayfair. The single property requiring limited funds from the estate was the terrace house. The proceeds of his artwork funded the property. “I understand. My next question is, why did you come here instead of going home?”
“Would you believe me if I told you the factory was on the way?” he asked, spinning around to face me, a self-deprecating grimace twisting his lips.
I had seen him down before but never like this. The fact that he sought me out was not surprising. I had been his confidant for many years. “No. My guess is you are avoiding the inevitable. Why? I thought you and Lillian were happy. Was I wrong?”
If I were to bet on anything, it would be the blissful outcome of their marriage. She adored him, and he’d showed her more deference than any other lover he’d taken. A tiny part of me had been jealous of their relationship. She could openly claim him as her own. I had to remain in the shadows. It wasn’t her fault,nor would I ever blame her. It was simply how things were, and nothing I could do would change it.
Silence reigned for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if he would answer the question I asked him. He shook his head. “No, you weren’t. I think I might love her.”
“I think you do love her. I think you love her a lot, but you are too afraid to tell her.”Like I am afraid to tell you.I approached him, unable to help myself. He was in my office, a living, breathing man I ached to comfort.
“If my past relationships are any sign, I’m not confident I can stay engaged once the lust fades.” Shoulders slumped; he was a broken man.
It was time to face my demons and practice what I preached. I caught his reflection in the mirror, and the pain in his expression hit me in the gut. “You and I have been confidants for years. During all that time, we’ve been close.”
