by Amy Ruttan
“How do you know Cassandra Greensby?”
“I’m surprised Mrs. Ponsonby hasn’t told you.”
“She did,” Geri admitted.
Thomas cursed under his breath. “I thought as much.”
“Well, you dodged a bullet there.”
Thomas didn’t respond, but his hands gripped the wheel tightly as they drove through a small village, whipping round a roundabout before turning down another small road.
“Are you taking me back to London? I do have a lot of work,” she said.
“Oh, no, we’re still going to my estate, but I promise you I won’t act in any untoward fashion.” He smiled.
“Good, I would like to see it. Father hasn’t taken me to ours, not that it’s large, just a manor house in Oxfordshire, but he rents it out.”
Thomas nodded. “Yes, I know. I’ve seen it once and it’s nothing too grand. His Holland Park home is much nicer, but as he’s a member of the House of Lords he also keeps his estate.”
“The House of Lords is sitting next week. I don’t think he’ll be making it, given his condition.”
* * *
Thomas’s heart skipped a beat and he hoped Charles had finally told Geraldine about the angiosarcoma. “Condition?”
“His chemotherapy. I don’t think he’s in any shape to attend a House of Lords session.”
“Of course.” Thomas sighed. For one moment he’d thought she knew about the angiosarcoma. If Charles lived up to his end of the bargain she would know soon enough.
“Are you going to go?”
“Good lord, no.” Thomas winked at her and she smiled.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“Hardly.” And he laughed. “No one has ever called me an idiot before.”
“No one?” she asked in disbelief.
“I believe my father often referred to me as a buffoon but that’s not the same thing.”
“I think you’ll find it is.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but my family estate will be covered in Christmas decorations. I know how you hate that.”
Geri rolled her eyes. “Really?”
He shrugged. “I know it was a foolish thing to ask, but I didn’t want you to be surprised by the extent of Christmas decorations at my home.”
“I’m actually surprised at that,” Geraldine said. “I didn’t think you liked Christmas too much.”
“I don’t, but it brings in the tourists and the trust that runs the tours is all about bringing in the tourists. They love it. They’ve been trying to get me to come to a Christmas event—you know, Christmas luncheon with the Duke and all that. They’ve been trying for years, but I haven’t been very interested.”
Geraldine perked up. “That sounds like fun!”
“It’s not really that much fun.”
She grinned at him. “Well, I think it would be. Why don’t you do it this year?”
“Maybe I will...”
* * *
The rest of the drive was pretty pleasant. They wound their way through back country roads far off the motorway until they came to a long winding road with signs that pointed to Weatherstone House.
Geri had been expecting something similar to her father’s estate, which she had seen photographs of. She was in no way prepared for what she was looking at as they came up the long tree-lined drive, before coming to a clearing and getting a chance to see the house in all its glory.
The house was grand. It looked like something out of a Jane Austen movie. She wasn’t expecting anything like this.
“This is your family estate. You told me it was just a small estate home.”
“Did I?” Thomas asked, grinning.
“This is huge.”
It was definitely bigger than her father’s estate. She’d expected Thomas’s home to be slightly bigger, she just wasn’t expecting it to be Mr. Darcy bigger.
“Have I seen this in a television production?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Could be. It was used for filming for some Hollywood movies in the sixties and seventies. Some period pieces, I’m not quite sure what.”
Thomas drove down a private driveway that was marked for family only and whipped around to the back of the house. When he parked the car and she got out she could see several cars, and that indeed the building was decked out in Christmas flair.
Dusk was starting to settle and the Christmas lights started to come on, thousands upon thousands of white Christmas twinkle lights. It was almost magical.
“We’ll be just in time for the last tour,” Thomas quipped cheerfully.
“Isn’t this your home? Does it matter if we’re in time for the last tour? Don’t I get a private one?”
“Good point,” he said, grinning. He took her hand. “Come on, then, you wanted to see my house.”
“You offered.”
“Right. And I promise no hanky-panky.”
Geri’s cheeks heated as he reminded her that he’d be good, even though she actually didn’t want him to be.
She followed him into the back entrance, into the private part of the home.
“This is where I stay when I come here to manage some of the land and deal with the trust that takes care of the public part of the house and operates the tours, but for the most part I’m not here. This part is pretty boring, pretty modern. This is the part my father had redone, because he lived here the whole time there were tours running. He used to attend the events arranged for Christmas—luncheons with the Duke.”
From everything that Thomas had said about his father, Geri could believe him doing that. “Did your mother enjoy attending the Christmas lunches with the Duke?”
He grinned and then laughed. “Yes, she did. In fact, it was her idea to start opening up the house for tours.”
They walked through a few more doors and suddenly they were in the main foyer, which held a profusion of marble, gilt and had a high ceiling with a crystal chandelier in the very center. It reminded her of the home in Mayfair where they’d attended the Christmas social event the night Zoe’s pacemaker had failed.
And like in that foyer, there was a huge tree here. It was bigger than the one in the Mayfair house and it was decked out in gold, reds and greens. It was the brilliant, rich colors that reminded her of Victorian Christmases. It was overwhelming. It was like she’d stepped back in time.
Art adorned the walls, and she could tell from a glance that some of the paintings were by the great masters. The winding staircase was breathtaking, its banister covered in garlands. If she closed her eyes she could imagine a Victorian lady coming down the stairs in a wide ball gown.
“It’s not much, but it’s sort of home,” Thomas said self-deprecatingly.
“Not much? This is amazing.”
“Well, they take good care of it. Come on, this way.” He led her through double doors to the dining room, which was set out as if they were expecting a Royal visit. Porcelain dishes were laid out on a table that had to be at least forty feet long. It was decorated as if there was going to be a Christmas dinner. There was a lot of holly, ivy, garlands and pine boughs, as well as poinsettias, which Thomas said came from the hothouse.
There was even a Yule log, not burning but in the fireplace.
She craned her neck to look up at the painted ceilings. The walls were papered in a deep red and the frames of the portraits were gilt. Geri wandered over to one of the windows and looked out at the extensive parkland at the back of the house, where there was a large sweeping garden with a canal pond and fountain.
At that moment it felt like she’d been transported to a different world.
“How much land does your family own?”
“Why?” he asked. “Is that important to you?”
“No,
of course not. I’m just curious. This place is huge.”
He laughed again. “Yes, it’s a large estate. Not as big as some, mind you, but quite extensive. There’s an arboretum, woods and a sculpture garden. Honestly, I don’t know what’s back there anymore. I think there are stables, but I’m not sure. I’m not into horseback riding, as my forebears were.”
“That’s interesting. Men like you usually are.”
“Are you?” he asked.
“No. I never had the opportunity to be around horses. Horses were a luxury for a girl growing up in a single income home in Glasgow. I didn’t even know who my father was.”
“So I can say the same about you. Usually aristocratic women love horseback riding.”
“Do you own horses? Maybe you can teach me.”
“I own some racehorses, but teach you to ride? I’m afraid I can’t do that. Would you care to see more of the house?”
“Of course,” she said.
Geri followed him into a library that had a vast collection of old books. Thomas showed her some first editions... Dickens and Austen to name a few. There were books that his family had been collecting since the time of King Henry VIII.
Some books were behind glass because they were so old they couldn’t be handled without gloves.
“I’m really thankful for having parts of the house put into the care of the trust and offering tours. They can take care of all this properly.”
“It’s too bad you can’t use this room anymore.”
“I can,” he said. “There are certain times of the year that the house isn’t open to tours. I try not to touch the books, though, especially the very old ones. I don’t want to damage them. Again, I’m very thankful the trust takes care of my family’s history like this.”
Eventually they wandered upstairs.
He opened a door. “This is a representation of what the duchess’s room might’ve looked like at the turn of the last century.”
Geri walked into a beautiful room that was Orient themed, which had been the style of that time. There were some clothes laid out and a mother-of-pearl handled hairbrush on a dressing table.
“Was this your mother’s room?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. This is not the Duchess’s room. It was a guest room when the house was private. My father kept the actual Duke and Duchess’s rooms in the private part of the house, but this room was set up to look like it. This was actually my great-grandmother’s room.”
“So your great-grandmother used it?”
“Yes. You could call this the Dowager’s room. Anyway, the trust decided to set this room up as the Duchess’s room for the tours. These are just smaller than the actual rooms they represent.” He opened the door. “This is the door that leads to the Duke’s room.”
“So he could visit the Duchess at night.” Then her cheeks heated as she realized what she’d just said.
He smiled at her lazily and took a step toward her. “Why, yes, if they wanted the bloodline to continue, that is.”
“I...I suppose so.” Geri found it hard to breathe at the moment, standing so close to him. She could reach out and touch him. Her pulse was thundering in her ears and before she could stop what she wanted to happen, Thomas’s arm slipped around her and he was pulling her tight up against him, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that sent a zing of heat through her body.
She melted into him, but the moment his hand slipped down her back she knew she had to put a stop to this now before something they both regretted happened.
He broke the kiss off before she did. “I’m terribly sorry, Geraldine. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, trying to regain her composure. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I promised you I wouldn’t do that.”
“Thomas, let’s just forget it ever happened.” And that’s what she wanted to do, before his kiss made her imagine something out of a historical romance novel and Thomas coming through that door on their wedding night.
It was a silly notion, but she understood why he brought women here, and then it completely sobered her that he had brought other women here. She refused to fall for another bad boy. She wasn’t going to be seduced by someone who was going to break her heart again. She just wouldn’t let that happen.
The Duke’s room was darker and more masculine than the Duchess’s room. She walked around it, trying to put some distance between the two of them. She couldn’t help but wonder what the real rooms looked like.
The Duke’s room had dark wood paneling, heavy curtains and decor in forest green or burgundy. It was very much a contrast to the Duchess’s room.
“Very dark. Is that where you got your nickname?”
“Perhaps, but I didn’t have a say over the decor in here. It was the style at the time.”
She didn’t know what else to say but she knew she had to get out of the rooms before Thomas tried to kiss her again or, worse, she tried to kiss him.
They just stood there, staring at each other, not saying a word.
Suddenly they heard a group of people talking and Thomas dashed across the room and took her hand, leading her out of the room.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To another room. The tour is coming and I really don’t want to be seen.”
“Would they even know who you were?”
He shot her a look. “They know who I am. My portrait hangs in the portrait gallery.”
Now she was intrigued. “There’s a portrait gallery?”
“Of course. Every good estate has one.”
“Can I see it?”
“Yes,” he groaned halfheartedly. He took her down the stairs to a long hallway where every Duke and Duchess of Weatherstone’s portrait hung, with his own large portrait at the very end.
The portrait was painted to match all the others. In it he was dressed in a naval uniform.
“I didn’t know you served in the Navy,” she said.
Thomas nodded.
Geri couldn’t help but stare up at the portrait. He looked so young in it. So handsome. He still was handsome, but seeing him in that uniform made her feel weak in the knees. Thomas Ashwood had hidden depths.
“Well, it’s getting late,” Thomas said, interrupting her thoughts. “Perhaps we should get back to London now.”
“Right. Of course. Thank you for showing me your home.”
“My pleasure.”
“Don’t forget about our arrangement.”
“What arrangement was that again?” he asked.
“That you attend a Christmas function for one of your tours.”
He groaned. “I thought you’d forgotten about that.”
“No, I didn’t forget. I plan to hold you to it.”
“Well, as long as you plan to attend my special Christmas appearance. I mean, it wouldn’t be a traditional Weatherstone Christmas with just the Duke by himself.”
“But I’m not a Duchess,” she said, and then she realized what she’d just said and felt completely mortified.
A strange look passed across his face. “No. I guess you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.”
And she never would be.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THOMAS STOOD IN the MRI lab, waiting for Charles’s scans to come up. He stood next to Dr. Hunyadi, who was the radiologist at Meadowgate Hospital. Dr. Hunyadi was a bit put out to be called down to assess the scans, but with an angiosarcoma you couldn’t always wait.
“Really, Mr. Ashwood, I can look at these later and diagnose it. You don’t have to be here.”
Thomas shook his head. “There’s no need to diagnose it. We know what he has. I just need to see how much it’s grown. I need to see these sca
ns now. This patient is very important.”
Thomas didn’t really have any privileges at Meadowgate Hospital, but Charles was insistent that everything take place here, where he was getting his chemo. He did not want to be recognized and pitied at the hospital where they all worked. Which was silly, and Thomas had told him that.
Dr. Hunyadi just shook his head and Thomas ignored him. He watched Charles in the MRI tube, waiting for the scans of the heart to be produced. He wanted to see how far it had progressed since the last scan, because angiosarcomas of the heart were one of the fastest growing and rarest tumors. He wanted to make sure it hadn’t spread into Charles’s lungs yet, because if it spread into his lungs it was going to make surgery even more difficult.
The image began to load. Thomas leaned over the technician to watch, holding his breath as if that would have any impact on what was going on in Charles’s body.
The angiosarcoma was small, thankfully, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief to see it. It hadn’t spread, which made Thomas even happier, but it was still there and it still needed to come out or it would grow until Charles’s heart failed.
There was some free fluid buildup around his heart, which would make things trickier. If it hadn’t been for the routine scan for his stomach cancer they would never have found this angiosarcoma. Usually they were discovered when it was too late, as angiosarcomas didn’t have any obvious symptoms.
When they were found it was sometimes mistaken for congestive heart failure, where symptoms were fluid around the heart and pain like angina. Even before those symptoms set in Charles could’ve formed an embolism that would’ve blocked a blood vessel and put him at risk of a stroke or sudden death.
Either way, having this angiosarcoma was dangerous to Charles, and Thomas was going to do everything in his power to save him for Geraldine’s sake. To give her a chance to make amends with her father. A chance he himself had never got. A chance he’d never taken and something he regretted.
“That’s a nasty angiosarcoma,” Dr. Hunyadi said.
“I’ve seen worse,” Thomas said. “Much worse.”
“Still,” Dr. Hunyadi said, “it’s going to be difficult to get clear margins.”