‘She has been waiting for me?’ he said, feeling numb but happy.
‘Just the sight of you had her walking into walls and acting like a witless fool. She could not manage two steps without tripping over her own feet when we were in town. But since you’ve been paying attention to her, she barely stumbles at all.’
‘True,’ Thomas said slowly, thinking of how quickly she’d climbed the hill in the dark.
‘When you proposed this ludicrous plan, I hoped that you’d finally opened your eyes and noticed what a fine girl she was. But it appears not.’
‘I… Well…’
He hadn’t.
‘I have now,’ he said with newfound confidence.
‘I certainly hope so. Because I will not see you trifle with her affections any longer. I don’t know what you have done to put her off marrying you. You had best set it to rights in short order or I will have to take steps.’
Considering what he’d done with her at the standing stones, it was a surprisingly magnanimous offer. ‘You have nothing toworry about,’ he vowed. ‘I mean to make her my duchess, even if I have to beg repeatedly for her hand.’
He took a deep breath and risked an honesty that he had not yet dared with Louisa.
‘I love her too.’
Percy smiled again, obviously relieved. ‘I am glad that’s settled. This was a damned awkward conversation and it would have gone much worse for both of us if you did not.’ He signalled the barmaid for ale.
Thomas relaxed as well, accepting the mug he was offered and raising it in a toast.
‘To brotherhood?’
He could not help the question in his voice.
‘To brotherhood,’ Percy agreed with a grin.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next morning, Louisa came down to breakfast, almost as full of emotion as she’d been after making love with Thomas. This might be the day when everything changed. She could find the will and escape the horrible man who would be sitting at the head of the table when she sat down to her tea and toast. The duke might be here when it happened.
Perhaps they would be able to talk. Would he offer for her again? How many chances was a man like him willing to give? How would she answer if he did?
Perhaps it would depend on whether it was Bonham talking or Tom Smith. Was it wrong to want them both? Was it wrong to want her money, as well? Grandfather would be only too happy to tell her she was being greedy and ungrateful. Going to the duke penniless, out of shame and a sense of duty, was a better opportunity than the life she’d been expecting.
It would have been enough for her, a week ago. But now, it was not. She would not allow anyone to tell her she was wrong, either.
She entered the dining room with her head held high and was surprised to find herself alone. She stood in the doorway for a moment, wary of sitting down, then rang for the butler. He told her that her grandfather had not been feeling well and decided to eat in his room.
It was a trick of some kind. It had to be. Or perhaps he had managed to hear what she’d discussed with Thomas in the garden and gone back to guard his treasure, like a dragon with his hoard. This change of plans was going to make everything more difficult.
There was nothing she could do about it, until Thomas arrived to help her. Hadn’t she been waiting for him for years? She’d told herself it was infatuation, but he had always been her hero. The story they’d shared might be ending soon. But if she was lucky, this could be the beginning of an even better one. She must trust that, today, he would do as he’d promised. She sat down at the table and reached for the toast rack.
She was on her second cup of tea when the commotion began. She could hear voices in the foyer, a brief discussion followed by the sound of men walking down the hall and doors opening. Thomas came into the dining room and sat down, sliding her grandfather’s unused place setting to his side of the table and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Before greeting him, she glanced at his clothes to decide who he was meant to be today. He was the duke, she decided. Not quite so spectacular as he’d been yesterday, but he definitely wasn’t playing the farmer.
‘Good morning, Your Grace,’ she said with a quizzical smile.
‘Good morning, Miss Louisa,’ he said, grinning. ‘Is that raspberry jam I see in the pot?’
‘Blackcurrant,’ she said, passing it across the table.
A man she’d never seen entered the room, picked up the ormolu clock off the mantlepiece and left again.
