‘…and Miss Louisa,’ the butler finished.
Grandfather froze. For a moment he almost looked worried. Then, his composure returned. ‘You are acquainted with him through your brother, I suppose.’
‘Of course,’ she said, giving him her old, serene smile and letting him guess at what she was hiding beneath it.
‘Let us go, then.’
She got up and followed him to the sitting room, walking past him when they got to the door and going straight to her usual chair. As she turned to sit, she paused for a moment to savour the sight of the man she’d been longing for.
He did not disappoint her. The person who had come to her today was not Tom Smith the farmer, or the man she’d known in London as her brother’s friend. He was not even the romantic rescuer who’d kissed her just a few days ago.
Today, Thomas Carew looked as he did in her dreams, so elegant that it almost hurt to gaze on him. He was clean shaven, for one thing. There were no nicks or rough patches where he’d done a less than perfect job while staring at his reflection in a clouded inn mirror. His hair was freshly trimmed as well. Clearly, he had summoned his valet.
His coat was the colour of rich claret, the superfine wool fitting like a second skin over his broad shoulders. His shirt was a blinding white and his cravat tied in a deceptively simple knot that was held in place by a pigeon’s blood ruby the size of a penny. The buttons on his coat and breeches were silver. His watchchain was thick and gold, ending in another ruby. The ducal signet ring was back, heavy and freshly polished.
When she had seen him in London, she’d known he was a duke and been dazzled, though he’d smiled and tried to put her at ease. But today, he had come prepared to intimidate and held back none of his power.
He had come to claim her, with all the splendour he could muster.
‘Hello, Your Grace,’ she said with a deep curtsey to tell him he’d impressed her.
‘Miss Skeffington,’ he said with a bow and smile. Then, he turned to her grandfather. ‘Lord Skeffington, I presume.’
‘Welcome, Your Grace,’ he said with an obsequious bow. ‘I assume you have come at the behest of your cousin.’
When Thomas did not immediately respond, he added, ‘Tom Smith.’
Thomas blinked.
It took barely a second, but it seemed to take for ever. He must have assumed, as had she, that her grandfather would understand the minute they met that he’d been tricked by Thomas and the siblings. Since he had not, the matter would have to be explained before the conversation could come round to the proposal she assumed was coming.
‘Of course,’ Thomas replied smoothly. ‘And for Miss Skeffington’s benefit, as well. I understand they wish to marry and you feel there is an impediment.’
‘He is natural born,’ her grandfather said, as if this explained everything.
That is the least of our problems.
Louisa wanted to scream it out and put a stop to this ridiculous charade. But there was still a slight chance that it could end in her favour. She reclaimed her old, false smile, pasted it on her face and waited to see what would happen.
‘A natural son from my family,’ Thomas said with a look that would have made a sensible man rush to apologise.
Her grandfather ignored it. But if he had not realised he was talking to the same man he’d thrown out of his house a few days ago, he had proved that he was not the brightest penny in the purse. It would be fun to watch Thomas destroy him. She settled into her chair to wait.
Thomas continued. ‘Mr Smith has written to request my help in obtaining your blessing for a union with Miss Skeffington.’
Grandfather laughed, a short bark of scorn that would have left Louisa shaking in her shoes a week ago. ‘I fail to see what business it is of yours.’
‘I am the head of my family, as you are of yours,’ Thomas said in a reasonable tone. ‘I am concerned for the reputation of my family and the happiness of the parties involved. From my acquaintance with her brother, I know Miss Skeffington to be a virtuous and sensible young lady. I can assure you of Mr Smith’sgood character, his good intentions, his ability to provide for her future and his eagerness to make her happy.’ He waited for her grandfather to agree.
He grunted in response.
‘Their marriage would make me happy as well,’ Thomas said, with a tone that warned them they would not want to be around him when he was unhappy. ‘I am here to see that their little story will reach a satisfying conclusion.’ He stared at Lord Skeffington, waiting.
‘Then you needn’t bother yourself, further,’ her grandfather said, and threw a sour smile in her direction. ‘I told them I have no problem with them marrying. They can do it as soon as they wish.’
‘And you will be arranging the dispersal of Miss Skeffington’s inheritance?’ Thomas queried.
‘The money will remain in the family,’ her grandfather contradicted with a scowl. ‘They did not seek my permission for the match before making it. Therefore, they do not have my approval.’
