Tollers announced dinner was ready, so Lucas offered Moira his arm and they proceeded into the dining room. Luckily another place had been set for Mr. Dorsey.
The conversation continued as they enjoyed a delicious white soup made with ground almonds, followed by roast fillet of veal served with a sauce, carrots, broccoli, and freshly baked dinner rolls with sweet cream butter.
Mr. Dorsey ate more than Lucas expected for such a thin man and took a particular liking to the wine served.
Once the meal ended, Moira rose. “I’ll say good night to the girls.”
Lucas and Mr. Dorsey stood as she took her leave then sat again as a footman served brandy. Lucas hoped Moira returned soon. He had no idea what to discuss with her father.
Or did he?
“Moira loves those girls.” Mr. Dorsey shook his head as he smiled. “She needs a family of her own though.” He glanced at Lucas as though realizing what he’d said might offend Lucas.
Lucas had no response.
After a long moment of awkward silence, Mr. Dorsey changed the subject. “You must be quite enamored with Brazil if you’re intent on returning.”
“The country offers certain…advantages.” Even as he said the words, doubt filled him. It offered solitude, but he was no longer sure that was what he wanted. He had Amelia and Addie to consider now. His personal wants took second place to them.
Another impulse took hold and he found himself catching Mr. Dorsey’s gaze. Perhaps he had a topic he wanted to discuss with Moira’s father after all.
*
“Thank you for coming to say good night to us,” Amelia said with a yawn, her soft curls tidy even now.
“Yes. We don’t get to see you in the evenings very often,” Addie added, squeezing Moira’s hand, her hair creating a dark halo around her head.
The maid who sat with them shared a smile with Moira.
“I’ve just finished supper with your uncle and my father, so I wanted to take a moment and bid you both good night since I was here.”
“You look beautiful.” Amelia reached out a hand to touch one of the pearls sewn into Moira’s gown.
“So pretty,” Addie said as she did the same. “I’ve never seen you wear this gown before.”
“I haven’t had much occasion to until now.” She still wasn’t certain why Lucas had invited them, but all in all, it had been a very pleasant evening. Listening to Lucas speak of his time in Brazil had been fascinating. She’d been curious about it but had hesitated to ask. His extensive knowledge of botany and geology had been surprising.
“I want to have a dress just like this when I get older.”
“Me, too, but I want mine in blue,” Addie said.
“Oh, that would be pretty. You look nice in blue,” Amelia agreed.
“You will both have lovely gowns when you grow older, but for now, you should close your eyes and rest.”
Amelia blinked slowly, the day catching up with her. She turned on her side and drew her arms in front of her to curl into a little ball. “I wish you could say good night to us every night, Aunt Moira.”
“Me, too,” Addie said as she snuggled into place in her bed that matched her sister’s. “That would be lovely. We’d have good dreams every night.”
Moira rose and kissed each girl on the forehead, her heart swelling with love and longing. “I want you to always have lovely dreams every night too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Kiss Uncle Lucas good night for us too,” Amelia requested with one eye open.
“He comes and tucks us in sometimes,” Addie said. “We like it when he does.”
Moira’s heart swelled a little bit more. Of course, he did. How was she to hold back from loving him when he did such things?
She bid the maid good night and, with one last glance at the sleeping girls, closed the door softly behind her.
With a deep breath to gather her emotions, she entered the drawing room.
“Moira, dear, I had no idea.” Her father strode across the room to take her hands in his. The broad smile on his face had her smiling in return. It wasn’t often he appeared quite so happy. “Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Mention what?”
“That his lordship intended to propose.” He squeezed her hands, which was a good thing as it prevented her from sinking to the floor. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Congratulations, darling.”
Her face flooded with heat as her heart raced. “He—” She looked at Lucas, unable to believe he’d said something to her father. Not when their last conversation on the topic had ended so badly. “He what?”
“Now, dear, don’t be so shy.” Her father released her hand to pat her shoulder. “I’m very pleased as I know this must make you happy.” He glanced over to Lucas who remained standing, his hands at his sides, his expression unreadable. “We should say our good nights, I believe.”
Moira could only continue to stare at Lucas, shocked with the turn of events.
“I’ll allow you a few moments of privacy but don’t be long,” her father said. “I’ll wait in the carriage.” He left the room, leaving Moira alone with Lucas.
“What did you do?” she asked, still breathless and confused.
Lucas moved to stand before her. “I asked your father for permission to marry you. He seems pleased with the notion.”
“I am quite certain we didn’t come to an agreement on the subject.”
He reached for her hand to cradle it in his. The flutters in her stomach turned into a flurry. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Moira could hardly breathe. Dare she hope? “You—you agree to my…request?”
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“You were adamant that having a child was not an option.”
“I’m still not certain as to the wisdom of it, but I do know this.” His gaze held hers as he cupped his hand along her cheek. His lips captured hers and it took all her focus to make certain her legs didn’t buckle.
Heat swirled with desire as he gathered her into his arms. If her heart broke a little because the proposal was not a true one, she wouldn’t worry about it. Not now. Not yet. Because this was real. This mattered. At least it mattered to her.
She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Her body pressed against his and she marveled at the difference between them. His hardness against her softness.
“Moira,” he whispered, sending shivers down her spine as he kissed her again. That one word contained such longing, such desire, that she wanted to give him anything he asked for. Including her heart.
But he didn’t want it, she reminded herself. She couldn’t help but hope that one day he would.
She drew back before she completely lost all her senses. Hope was a dangerous thing. A fine line existed between hope and despair. She certainly didn’t want to cross it.
“My father is waiting,” she said as she looked up into his face, her hands resting on his broad chest.
Lucas drew a deep breath, his hands still warm on her waist. “Indeed he is. Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes. I look forward to it.” It took a great deal of strength to step out of the circle of his arms.
As far as she was concerned, they still had much to resolve. But for now, for tonight, she was happy. She would take this night and revel in the feeling. The details could wait just a little while longer.
“Good night, Lucas.”
He took her hand, turned it over and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Good night.”
With a smile and sparks filling her body from head to toe, she went to join her father, amazed at the changes one evening could bring.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“At last!” Uncle Grisby rocked back in his desk chair with a cackle as he set aside the newssheet he’d been reading.
Vincent eyed him warily. Outbursts such as that one usually meant something Vincent wouldn’t like was about to occur. “What is it?”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d be carryin’ on about a woman,” Vincent muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Uncle.”
“Lord Tysdale gave a speech outlining the reasons England must lead the way.”
Vincent frowned. He still had no idea of what his uncle was speaking. “Lead the way where?”
“Not where, but how.”
He nodded as though Uncle Grisby made perfect sense, unwilling to ask more questions, which would only result in rude comments. Besides, unless the topic directly involved him, he really didn’t care.
“He truly has a vision for the forward role England must take in this world.” His uncle smiled broadly, the sight turning Vincent’s stomach when his scarred eye socket pulled away from his eye.
Vincent hoped the sausage and onions he’d had for luncheon stayed in place. He looked out the window, anywhere but at his uncle until the man stopped smiling.
“I need you to find out where this lord lives. I intend to pay a call upon him and explain my vision.”
“Mayhap you should send a letter first.” When his uncle frowned, Vincent shrugged. “No offense intended, but yer appearance can be rather alarmin’. A letter might be the best way to approach him. Then after he sees ye share the same…vision, ye can meet.”
“Excellent point. Vincent, sometimes you have good ideas.”
The astonishment in his uncle’s tone had Vincent gritting his teeth. “Thank ye kindly.”
“I will prepare a letter and allow you to deliver it.”
Allow me? Vincent did his best to hide his irritation at his uncle’s word choice.
“I have no doubt Lord Tysdale’s ideas are in alignment with my own. Once we confirm that, I’ll request a meeting. Where would be a good place? Somewhere neither of us have the advantage. But a location with which he is unfamiliar. I don’t want him to be too comfortable.”
“Ye might wait to tell him of the devices,” Vincent cautioned. “In case he doesn’t understand yer view.”
“Why? I’d think he would be very interested in them.”
“But if he disagrees with usin’ force, he’d have the information ye’ve kept secret for so long.”
“Ah, another valid point.” His uncle jotted down something on a piece of paper on the desk before him.
“I’ll leave ye to work on the letter while I see if I can find where he lives.”
His uncle chuckled. “Or you could simply deliver it to Parliament.”
Vincent studied his uncle. In truth, he simply didn’t understand the old man’s sense of humor. “His home would probably be best.”
He donned his hat, pleased at the idea of going out for a spell. “I’ll stop by Berkmond’s townhouse to see if anything is stirrin’ there while I’m out.” And between the places, he’d find a pub. He knew neither of those homes would be in his preferred neighborhood, but he’d learned to make do with the opportunities that presented themselves.
“I know what you’re about, Vincent.” Uncle Grisby shook his head. “You need to learn to put the success of our mission above your personal needs.”
Resentment filled Vincent. “I’ve done everything ye’ve asked of me and then some, haven’t I?”
“With the exception of retrieving the meteorite.”
Vincent spun away with a growl. That damned rock was a thorn in his side. He’d been so close to having it—thought he had until that damned Bradford woman had chosen to deceive him. If only she’d done what he’d told her, Vincent wouldn’t be in this position.
“I still don’t understand how one rock can make a difference.”
“It’s not just any rock. That particular lunar meteorite is an especially good specimen. It would conduct electricity at a far more even flow than what we have now. I believe I’ve explained that to you several times.”
“The chances of me obtainin’ it without gettin’ meself caught are slim.” The last thing he wanted to do was be caught by Ashbury or Weston. Who knew which lord had the damned rock.
“Hmmm.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Vincent was growing more annoyed by the moment.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m certain you’ve carefully weighed the risks to make the correct decision on whether another attempt to take the meteorite is worthwhile.” His uncle turned his back on him. “Let me know when you obtain the address of Lord Tysdale.”
Vincent said nothing as he strode out the door. Why he put up with his uncle was less and less clear. Part of him wanted to take the chance and break into each lord’s home and tear the place apart until he found it. Then he’d throw it at his uncle’s head.
But the more cautious part of him hesitated. Did his uncle truly want the bloody rock or did he just keep bringing it up to get under Vincent’s skin?
A pint would clear his head. Too bad he didn’t have someone he could discuss this with, someone who understood the challenges of breaking into a lord’s home that was full of servants day and night.
He shut the door quietly behind him despite the urge to slam it. He didn’t want to give his uncle the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’d upset him.
*
The next morning, Lucas walked through the foyer toward the library, still wondering what he’d done. Had his decision to request Moira’s hand in marriage from her father been the worst mistake of his life? Part of him said yes, but another part of him equally as loudly said no.
He should’ve waited and further weighed the pros and cons of an arrangement, including Moira’s request. How did he intend to make this work while keeping both his word and his sanity and, even more importantly, his secrets?
“My lord, Miss Dorsey requests a moment of your time and is awaiting you in the library,” Tollers said, a twinkle in his eye. “And may I offer congratulations from Mrs. Tollers and myself?”
Lucas nearly groaned. Obviously the servants had been informed or someone had overheard. He could only hope the girls didn’t yet know or he’d have a serious problem on his hands. He needed to explain the arrangement to them before they drew conclusions of their own.
Of course, that was assuming he understood the arrangement.
“Thank you, Tollers, and please express my thanks to Mrs. Tollers as well.”
The butler dipped his head in acknowledgement as he opened the library door.
Lucas paused on the threshold, reminding himself not to allow his desire for Moira to override his intentions. He needed to put a limit to the time he remained in England. He couldn’t postpone his trip to London much longer. Additional inquiries regarding Markus’s death were too difficult to do from afar. He would allow himself a wedding night with Moira, but no more. One night was all he could possibly afford if he wanted to keep his secrets and protect them both from further entanglement.
Moira stood in a beam of sunlight shining in the front window as she stared out. A golden glow filled the space around her. He couldn’t tell if it was her aura or the sunlight or perhaps an amazing combination of both, but it was beautiful. She was beautiful, positively glowing as she turned to face him, a timid smile on her face.
Something deep inside his chest shifted, squeezed, and lifted all at once. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite clamp it back down. As she moved toward him, he wondered why he thought he needed to.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said then clasped her hands before her as though uncertain how to greet him.
That made two of them. The awareness between them, which had simmered since his return, now threatened to erupt.
“Since we’ll soon be married, I would ask that you address me less formally.” Her cheeks pinkened as she nodded in agreement. “I trust you are well?” he asked. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and pick up where they’d left off the night before, but he contented himself with admiring her from where he stood.
“Yes, thank you.” She glanced away for a long moment before lifting her chin and meeting his gaze. “I must ask the same of you.”
Her emphasis on the question gave him pause. “I’m fine.”
“Are you truly?” Her frown puckered the spot between her brows, making him want to smooth it.
“Indeed.” He had to focus to make certain he held her gaze.
“But these headaches you have.” She turned away only to turn back again, catching him staring at her golden aura. “And why do you look at my hair so often?”
“I don’t know what you mean. You have beautiful hair and today the sunlight is casting a golden glow over it.”
“Lucas, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Please tell me the truth. The headaches, the bouts when you shut yourself away for a day or more…what are they?”
“Nothing to worry yourself over.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” She moved forward and took his hands in hers. “If I am to marry you, I have a right to know. Are you dying?”
No, but I can see when others are. He pressed his lips together to keep the words inside. He hesitated to answer her. Was he? At times it seemed the headaches and melancholy were worsening, but would they lead to death? Would all this slowly drive him insane? He didn’t know.
“Please tell me the truth. You aren’t the same man who left here.”
“True.” How much did he tell her? He didn’t know what the long-term effects of the accident were. She had a right to know what she was getting into by marrying him, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her everything.
Were Weston and Ashbury burdened with the same ability he was? Did they have the blasted headaches? Perhaps he should reconnect with them when he traveled to London.
With a sigh, he brought his thoughts back to Moira. “The accident that took my eye—did anyone tell you the details of it?”
“Only that there was an mishap at the university. Your mother was quite concerned about your injuries.”
Lucas nodded. How telling that she didn’t mention if his father had been worried. The days after his return home had caused an even bigger rift between them.
Secrets 03 - Shattered Secrets Page 11