Page 52 of Lavender’s Lost Duke

“So, how can I find evidence that the Duke of Fenleigh is innocent? As soon as I do, I can rid myself of Lord Chilcott.”

Thomas’s mind struggled to follow her thinking. “Are you motivated by proving the duke’s innocence or to be free of the baron?”

“Both, of course.”

“And to what end?”

Lavender stopped the swing and walked around it until she was only a hand’s width from him. She put her hand on his heart and warmed the part of his soul he’d unknowingly allowed to freeze this past week. “My parents are relying on me, and I can help them by marrying. I admit, I would like to avoid Lord Chilcott if I can.” She blinked back tears. “I may not be able to help things between me and you, but at least I could help them if I have the power to do so.”

Samuel’s words rushed into Thomas’s mind. I don’t think she knows how to live if she isn’t being useful to someone at all times. The problem was, Thomas didn’t want her to have to work for his happiness or for her parents’. He wanted her to think of her own future for two heartbeats and realize that her own happiness mattered.

But who was he fooling? In her eyes, he’d pushed her away when he’d suggested she would make a match with Lord Fenleigh—for her own protection, but still. She must be so disappointed in what she knew were his feelings for her. As much as he wished for a life with her, it would take too long for him to become the type of man she deserved. Far longer than the month or so she was determined to marry within. It wasn’t fair: he’d finally found a lady who he cared for, and she cared for him in return despite his title and fortune, and she was out of his reach.

He supposed he was getting what he deserved after the waste of a life he’d lived. He wasn’t good enough for a lady like Lavender. A woman whose whole life had been to make others around her happy. Thomas was selfish. All he ever wanted would be her.

“Tom,” her voice interrupted his thoughts. “What is causing you so much turmoil?”

He placed his hand over hers. “You.” He pressed her hand harder into his pounding chest. “This heart—it beats for you. And I cannot ask you to make it better. I don’t want you to change it.” He brought his other hand up to cup the soft skin of her cheek. “I just want you to know that I see you, Lady Lavender, and although I cannot declare myself right now, this heart will always belong to you.”

She raised onto her toes and tugged him toward her with her free hand. “I love you, Tom Smith.”

Thomas’s heart broke and then soared to the sky with her words. She loved Tom Smith, but could she ever love Thomas Monteclare? Uncertainty filled him as he rested his forehead on hers, breathing in her calming floral scent.

“Kiss me, Tom. Please?”

Her words made his pulse hammer all the more. But if he was going to try to be a better man, he had to stand his ground on this. He would not take advantage of her. “I cannot do that to either of us. I will never recover.”

He felt her slowly sink down from her toes. The wisps of air between them taunted him, begging him to give in to her request. “Forgive me.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and lingered a moment too long before he pulled away.

He held her eyes with his gaze and saw the rejection she felt staring back at him. But there was hope there as well. It seemed he was not the only one of them at war within.

Chapter 25

Lavender spun around and made a dash for the house. She needed to be somewhere to sort through her thoughts. A romantic garden was certainly not that place. What she needed was a library. The Gilfordshire library was familiar to Lavender now, but it didn’t feel like the haven she’d experienced at the Duke of Fenleigh’s estate. Her emotions frayed, she closed the door behind her and allowed herself to crumple at the base of the door.

Her mother would have cut out her tongue if she knew that she’d asked a man to kiss her. It was yet another way she let her family down—a wallflower ought never ask for attention. She refused to be disappointed in the way the night had turned. The chaste kiss that he’d given her forehead had been more intimate than any other interaction she’d had before—Mr. Lanscombe and his ingenuine attentions included. But she did have to remind herself that this situation was different from her past. Tom was not Mr. Lanscombe. He was not turning her away because she was only a distraction . . . was he?

No.

She refused to believe that she was a convenient distraction from his work or that Tom’s mind mirrored Mr. Lanscombe’s, the only other man she’d thought she loved before. But just like before, she’d been the first one to lay her heart on the line. Tom was far kinder than Mr. Lanscombe, his words gentler, and his dismissal sweeter.

The only difference was that Mr. Lanscombe did have the ability to leave her and move on to greener pastures. Tom though . . . he had to remain here. Did he reject her because he wanted to keep his job or because he truly cared for her? And the worst question of all: did it matter?

Lavender had a duty to her family. She was supposed to be getting married soon. As much as she wished things were different, a lady didn’t marry a servant—it just wasn’t done.

If she did choose to love him anyway, maybe Miriam would allow her to be a maid in her house. Lavender wasn’t afraid of learning to work. She loved learning. But she would have to give up her books and trade them for an apron and rags. She’d always valued her servants, seen the things they did to make her life easier. But it was easier to notice something than it was to do it herself.

If nothing else, she could use the library to do some research and gain knowledge if she should ever take that leap. She picked herself up and began perusing the shelves. She picked out a book on mending and sat in a chair. She flipped the cover open and stared at the words on the page without seeing them.

If she and Tom married, it would devastate her family. It might kill her father. Her mother would disown her, and her siblings would be embarrassed by her. For having been raised all her life to bring peace to those around her, one single choice could bring all their lives into utter chaos. She sniffed and blinked fast so the tears didn’t fall. This was why she'd been determined to leave love out of her marriage. This was the reason she ought to accept Lord Chilcott for what he could offer her.

She could either bring peace to her family or bring peace to herself. It should be an easy choice. She’d always put the needs of others before her own. Lavender was made to live in the background, and she was good at it—most of the time. If only she’d never met Tom Smith, she could be happy.

Her feet beat a hollow steady rhythm as she padded up the stairs to her bedchamber. She could feel the cloud of sadness drifting over her now that the excitement of telling Tom how she felt was dissipating. She knew how to make the melancholy leave. She’d done it a thousand times before. She needed to find a way to be useful. She couldn’t help Tom, or herself for that matter, but she could help the lost duke.

Perhaps if she freed him from the rumors that made him disappear, she would feel better, needed. Not only would the man’s name be cleared, she could see if Tom was correct that she and the duke would make a good match. Until then, she would try to walk a fine line between encouraging Lord Chilcott and avoiding his advances.

A week did nothing to ease Lavender’s aching. Part of that was her own doing. She’d refused to avoid the garden in the evenings. But Tom was distant, if not physically, at least emotionally. He avoided conversation, refusing to answer questions about Lord Fenleigh, and their evenings had become shorter and shorter. Each meeting added weight to her weary heart.