Page 94 of Mail-Order Viscountess

James turned his mug in his hand as he studied it. “We’ll want to include enough detail to convey the severity without tipping our hand about exactly what we know. If Reginald has informants watching the telegraph lines⁠—”

Thomas reached for another biscuit, though his appetite had faded. The conversation pulled at something in him—that old restlessness, the need to act instead of sitting around a table talking.

But Kate’s hand found his under the table, her fingers threading through his. The touch anchored him, kept him from standing up and pacing like he wanted to.

Instead, he turned his agitation into words. “He could hire another crew inside a fortnight. Men like those aren’t hard to find if you’ve got enough gold.”

Enoch’s gaze sharpened on him, and Thomas braced for the dismissal he’d grown so accustomed to. The pat on the head, the change of subject.

Instead, his brother nodded. “You’re right. We need a plan for protecting this place that goes beyond hoping the next batch of thugs gets caught before they reach us.”

James leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Thomas.” His tone shifted—gentler, more deliberate. “Are you and Kate still planning to head for California?”

His throat tightened. California. The word that had driven him for weeks. The escape he’d been so certain he needed.

He glanced at Kate. Her hazel eyes met his, steady and clear. No pulling back like she’d done on that ride to town—was that really only yesterday? No guardedness, no walls.

Just...permission. Trust.

She was leaving it to him. Whatever he decided, she would stand beside him.

The realization stole his breath.

He turned back to his brothers, and Kate’s hand squeezed his beneath the table. Warmth spread through his chest, loosening all that had been wound tight for longer than he could remember.

“No.” The word came easy. “Unless Kate wants to go somewhere, we’d like to stay here. On the ranch. With the rest of you.”

Kate’s fingers tightened on his, and when he looked at her, tears shimmered in her eyes. Good tears though. The kind that came with relief.

He added, “You’ll need every hand you can get if Reginald sends more men.”

Enoch studied him a long moment, those blue eyes seeing deep. Then he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. “I’m glad you want to stay here. We’ll need you. And more than that, we want you.”

He cleared his throat. “And I’ve been thinking about how to make things easier for everyone. With three of us married now—” He glanced at Rose, then at Mandie, then at Kate. “It might be time to spread out a bit.”

Thomas blinked. He hadn’t expected this turn.

“I know we’ve...” Enoch paused, and for the first time in Thomas’s memory, his brother looked almost uncomfortable. “We may have dismissed your ideas at times. Made it too easy to still think of you as the unruly youngster of the family.”

Thomas couldn’t speak. Couldn’t have spoken if the house had been on fire.

“But you’re not that anymore.” Enoch’s blue eyes held his, steady and direct. “You’re a man with a family of your own now. And you’ve proven that in ways that matter a great deal more than any of us gave you credit for.”

Thomas’s throat constricted. He stared at his brother, searching for any trace of pity or obligation. He found none.

“There are some good spots not far from the main house,” Enoch continued. “South, along the creek, or up on that rise overlooking the east pasture. Close enough to help protect each other, but far enough to have your own space. Your own place.” His gaze moved between Thomas and Kate. “If you and Kate wanted to build something, we’d all pitch in. Each couple can build their own life while still being part of the whole.”

The words hung in the air like the first notes of a song Thomas had never dared imagine hearing.

Your own place.

Part of the whole.

Everything he’d wanted—not the running, not the escape, but the thing beneath it. The thing he’d been too afraid to name because naming it meant admitting how badly he wanted it.

A place that was his. A life he could build with his own hands. And a family that saw him—truly saw him—not as the youngest brother or the charming afterthought, but as someone whose presence mattered.

His vision blurred, and he blinked hard against it. Swallowed twice before he trusted his voice.