Page 24 of Lavender’s Lost Duke

“Why did you leave the Duke of Fenleigh’s household?”

Tom visibly ground his teeth together, his jaw tensing with emotion. Whether it was because she turned the conversation or because of how he believed her parents ought to raise her, she did not know.

“I left because I was stuck. I needed new experiences to learn from, to make me a better man.”

“And do you believe you have found them here?”

He nodded once. Succinct and sure. “I have. Lady Lavender . . . have you ever felt adrift?”

She felt this question to be a continuation of his answer, so she didn’t fight him on it. “At times, I suppose, but not for long. I’ve had people to anchor me to my purpose.” Even if he thought that purpose was excessively stupid.

Tom’s jaw clenched and unclenched a few times while he obviously battled about what to say to her. Each time the swing came closer to him, she felt a pulse of energy connecting them.

“I have felt adrift for a very long time now,” he finally admitted. “At times, lately, I think I have discovered my purpose. But I also know that I am not living up to my potential.”

Lavender’s heart ached for him. “You are in a difficult position. Society is not fair in the least.”

His brows pulled together. “Do elaborate.”

“Well,” she hesitated, not wanting to cause more harm than he was already struggling with. “Some of the best people I know are servants. They are the type of people that deserve every good thing, but their station in life only allows them to live so well. No one has control as to what status they are born into. I do not deserve to be a lady, pampered and without financial worry.” She held his eyes. “And you do not deserve to be a servant, always working to better the lives of others, and in many cases being poorly treated.”

“I am lucky enough to have been treated with kindness in my work.”

Lavender smiled. “That knowledge alone gives me more peace than you could guess. But surely, you know of other servants who are not treated well.”

Tom nodded his head, his gaze beyond her. “Not all servants are as trustworthy as their employers believe.”

“But you are.”

He searched her face. “I strive to be that, and more.” A storm raged across his face. A conflict that she didn’t understand. “Although it is not always easy.” He cleared his throat. “It’s getting late.” He slowed the swing so she could stand.

With his hands still on the ropes she was almost cocooned within his arms. Heart pounding, she took the smallest of steps nearer him, a scant hand’s width of separation between her chest and his. She put her hand up and pressed it against his chest. “You are a good man, Tom Smith.” Her hand tingled and gooseflesh erupted across her skin. Never had she been so tempted to give a man a kiss. She fought within herself for a handful of seconds while Tom’s heart hammered beneath her touch. Their breathing was shallow, and she found herself wanting more from him. Her chest pounded into her sternum with a warning she’d never experienced.

No.

Tom was just her friend. These feelings were just moonlight and good conversation and too little sleep. Blinking hard, she ducked under his arm and hurried back to the house.

Chapter 12

Thomas hated that Lady Lavender was avoiding him, but he understood it. He needed the space between them as much as she did. With the new bounty on finding the lost duke came a greater need to remain hidden. Lady Lavender wasn’t Thomas’s only source of information about the updates of the search; all the servants were talking about it. Thomas had allowed his whiskers to grow a little longer, which perturbed Mrs. Bitters to no end. “You have such a handsome face beneath all that scruff, Tom. I can’t very well send you in to wait on the household looking like that.” Rather than being a deterrent, this was reason enough for him not to obey orders. The last thing he wanted to do was risk being recognized by a visitor while waiting on them.

Thomas had just finished his breakfast when Jack sauntered into the kitchen in his livery. The maroon of the coat clashed horribly with his orange hair, but his wide-toothed smile made him look as enviable as ever. It was ridiculous, really, to be envious of a seventeen-year-old boy with nothing to his name, but it was there. “Good morning, Mrs. Bitters.” Jack whistled a tune as he came in. “Daniel spilled his porridge all over the floor in the dining room and the duchess sent me to get him some more.”

Mrs. Bitters dried her hands on her apron and shook her head. “Oh, Daniel. That boy will put us all in an early grave,” she said with a smile. “Will you bring that pot over for me, Jack?” She motioned to the large black pot hanging on a hook beside the fire.

Jack continued his whistling, and Tom pulled on his boots to go out to the garden and get to the weeds before the sun was out in full.

A great crash made Thomas whip his head up. The large pot toppled, spilling porridge all over Mrs. Bitter’s clean floors. And then Jack choked on a scream. Thomas was at his side in an instant. The boy was holding his red hands in front of him as anguish played across his face. He fell to his knees, tucked his mouth into his shoulder, and let go another howl of pain.

Thomas felt as helpless as a new puppy. What was he to do to help his friend? His first thought was to raid the liquor cabinet and give Jack the duke’s most powerful brandy. But he still didn’t trust himself around the stuff—the imagined scent of the drink alone made Thomas want some for himself.

Thankfully, Mrs. Bitters was a woman of action. “Tom,” she said sternly over Jack’s stifled screams, “put that cistern of water on the table.”

Tom did as he was asked and then helped Jack to a chair while Mrs. Bitters reassured Jack he would be fine. “Stick your hands in here and don’t take them out.” Then she turned to Tom. “Go inform Her Grace that we are out of porridge and ask what else Daniel would like to eat.”

Thomas nodded and tromped up the stairs in his gardening boots, realizing the mess he was making but not really caring either. His main objective was to complete his task so that he could return to Jack’s side.

“Tom, what on earth are you doing?” the duchess proclaimed upon his inelegant entrance to the dining room.