When a Marquis Chooses a Bride (22 page)

The need he had for Thea must be the cravings his uncle warned him against. He'd heard of men being in battle and wanting nothing more than a woman afterward. After being at the whorehouse, that must have been what had occurred to him. He had never desired a woman as much as he did her. But that didn't explain his behavior yesterday. If his footman hadn't knocked to tell them the coach was ready, what would he have done?

His poor, darling Thea. She only thought of kisses. She had no idea what the end result would be. Would she be horrified when he wanted to see her naked? Would she hate seeing him that way? Perhaps it would be better if they each wore night clothing, but that wasn't how he wanted her. He needed to see her skin flushed. Kiss and learn every inch of her. He moaned as his shaft stiffened at the thought.

Despite him wanting her to live at Merton House, after yesterday he should be thankful her parents would not arrive for another several days. Having her here and not being able to touch her was going to be torture. Yet at least he'd identified what it was he felt. It was merely lust, not love. Love would be disastrous. It would make him neglect his duty.

Cyrille jumped up into Dom's lap, and, absently, he stroked the cat. Every time Thea took it upon herself to save something or someone, his life spiraled out of control. He began wanting what he couldn't have, just as he'd done as a child. He slammed his closed fist on the desk, unsettling the cat for a moment. It would have to cease. She could not continue taking in strays and risking her safety.

“My lord!” Tom burst through the door. “Look at what I drew. Sally says it's my best one yet.” The child crawled up into Dom's lap, being careful not to disturb the cat, and handed him the paper. “See?”

Dom stifled a groan. This vignette wanted only a three-legged dog. But when he glanced down at the sketch, it wasn't at all what he'd expected. The drawing was clearly Thea and even captured the twinkle in her eyes. The one he hoped he wouldn't snuff out when he told her she would have to cease her activities.

He tousled Tom's hair. “Very good.”

At least the boy was doing well. Dom's attempts to track down Tom's grandfather, the Earl of Stratton, had so far been unsuccessful. The man wasn't in Town and the letters sent to his estate and man of business had not yet been answered. Major Horton agreed to inquire at the Horse Guards for the approximate date of Tom's father's return. Until a member of his family who was willing to take him could be located, it was up to Dom to care for the boy. He must find the time to hire a tutor, but who would work for an unspecified period of time?

After a few moments an idea struck him. Worthington and Grace might be willing to help Tom. With distaste, Dom remembered his unrelenting hours spent only with tutors. Even Garvey had stopped coming over to play. As much as it went against the grain to ask Worthington for anything, Dom would speak with his cousin. Sending Tom to study with other children would be good for him. Now the only detail left was finding a drawing master, but where the devil did one begin to search?

A knock sounded on the door, and his mother entered. Glancing at Dom, she smiled, no doubt seeing his future children on his lap. Would he have to keep his distance from them as well?

Tom jumped down, waving the drawing again. “My lady, look what I did.”

Mama took the picture. “You have a great deal of talent.”

She looked at Dom as if to ask what he planned to do.

“Do you have any idea where I can find a drawing master?”

Hesitating only for a moment, she replied. “I believe I do. I came to tell you Matilda and I are attending Lady Thornhill's drawing room. She generally has a number of artists present. Why don't you join us?”

Long ago he had promised his uncle he'd never enter that den of iniquity. Most of her ladyship's guests made sport of the Prince Regent and discussed radical reform. Yet to be fair, Prinny did make himself a figure of fun. His difficulty was how to phrase his aversion so as to avoid hurting his mother's feelings. “I thought I would spend some time with Thea this afternoon.”

His mother raised a brow. “Then you had best come with me as that is the only way you'll see her before this evening.”

He stifled a groan. He'd forgotten. Grace frequently took the young ladies there. If he only went to find a teacher for Tom, what harm could there be? And he should see firsthand what Thea was exposed to in such company. “I shall be happy to escort you.”

Attend the drawing room, find a drawing master, and remove his women, including Thea, from the Thornhills' influence. What could be so hard about that? In the meantime, he would take Tom over to Worthington's house.

Dom ordered a footman to make the child ready and called for his curricle.

He entered the hall, and Tom looked up with anxious eyes. “Are you going to give me to someone else?”

Dom took the boy's hand, leading him out to the pavement. “No, I am going to see about lessons for you with some other children. They are cousins of mine. I think you will like them.”

The boy gave a little skip, but didn't reply.

He stopped at Stanwood House first, hoping to be able to discuss the matter with Grace.

The butler opened the door. “Good day, my lord.”

Inclining his head slightly, Dom gave the man his hat, gloves, and cane. “Royston, is Lady Worthington at home to visitors?”

“Yes, my lord. If you will follow me?” He stopped before a door at the end of the corridor and knocked, then opened it. “My lady, Lord Merton to see you.”

Grace glanced up from the ledgers on her desk and rose. “This is a surprise.” Dom's defenses started to rise, but she smiled. “A pleasant one. Royston, some tea please, and I believe Cook may have some jam tarts.” She glanced at Tom, then walked to a small sofa. “This must be Tom. He cleaned up very well. Have a seat and tell me what I can do for you.”

Dom sat in a large leather chair, and Tom climbed onto his lap. “If what I suggest is not possible, please feel free to tell me. I would like Tom to take lessons with your brood.”

Grace gazed at the child as she considered his request. “I don't see why not, but I shall want to consult Miss Tallerton and Mr. Winters. They will wish to assess where Tom is in his studies, unless you happen to know?”

Dom shook his head. It hadn't even occurred to him to ask what the boy had been studying when his mother died. “No, please feel free to call them down.”

Grace tugged the bell pull and a footman poked his head in. “I would like Miss Tallerton and Mr. Winters to attend me when it is convenient for them to make a pause.”

“Yes, my lady.”

That was not how to run a household. Anyone who worked for him was expected to come immediately upon his request. “I would have thought we could do this posthaste.”

She regarded him calmly. “You have not had your tea yet.” “Yes, but—”

Then she gave him a look that would have done his old nurse credit. “I will not interrupt the children's studies. They have a strict schedule that must be maintained.”

He grimaced. “I apologize. I should have realized that you must maintain order.”

“Precisely. It would be utter chaos if I did not.” She glanced at a large mahogany grandfather clock. “They will be down soon.”

Shortly after tea arrived, he heard what sounded like a herd of horses stampeding through the house, accompanied by high-pitched squeals.

“Ah.” Grace set her cup down. “Playtime.”

How different this was to the way he'd been raised. After his father's death, he'd not been allowed to run in the house or yell. He knew he would sound stupid by asking, but couldn't help himself. “What will the children do now?”

“They will run about outside for the next ten minutes or so, then go into luncheon. After which they will have their individual studies.”

Dom shook his head, not understanding.

“They each play a musical instrument and must be proficient enough not to embarrass themselves if called upon to perform. They also learn the rudiments of drawing, though I admit, the only one of us who can sketch with any skill is Matt. Then there are foreign languages. The older ones are taught Latin, Greek, advanced maths, and science. Then there is French and Italian. Additionally, the girls must practice their needlework.”

Other than needlework, it was very much like what Dom had studied. What surprised him was that the boys and girls apparently had the same lessons. “Will you send them to school?”

“The boys, yes. Neither Matt nor I have a great opinion of girls' schools. Fortunately, there are enough of them that they will not be lonely.”

A knock came on the door and a tall fair woman accompanied by an even taller gentleman with light brown hair entered the room.

“You wanted to see us, my lady?”

Grace waved at them to take seats. “Yes. Miss Tallerton, may I introduce my cousin, the Marquis of Merton. Merton, our governess, Miss Tallerton, and our tutor, Mr. Winters.”

The two instructors took places on the sofa across from Grace and glanced curiously at Tom.

“I would like to know if adding one child more to the mix will disrupt your teaching schedule?”

They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“The only thing we must do,” Mr. Winters said, “is ensure the boy is at the same academic level as at least one other child. Why don't you allow him to remain for luncheon and the rest of the day?”

Grace went to the door to the garden and called for Mary and Theodora, the two youngest children. They arrived at a full run, curls escaping from their braids.

“Yes, Grace?” Mary asked.

“This is Tom. He is visiting Lord Merton for a while and may join your lessons. I would appreciate it if you would take him out and introduce him to the others.”

Theodora, the older of the two girls at eight years, grabbed Tom's hand. “Come with us and you can play until it's time to eat.”

Dom's heart lurched as Tom grinned and smiled over his shoulder. “See you later, my lord.”

“I'll send the coach for you.” Dom watched as the children ran out the door. At some point, Tom would leave him forever.

“He'll be fine, my lord,” Miss Tallerton said.

Dom cleared his suddenly thick throat. “Of course he will.”

* * *

Two hours later, Dom entered Lady Thornhill's drawing room, but instead of feeling as if he had entered a lion's den, it was more akin to some sheik's abode and rather pleasant. He couldn't put his finger on just what was different about the room, yet it seemed to entice the senses. A tall slender woman in a brightly colored gown and turban greeted him, his mother, and cousin.

“Eunice, I'm so glad to see you here.” The lady bussed Mama on the cheek.

“Silvia.” Mama kissed her in return. “I daresay, you won't remember Dominic.”

Lady Thornhill held out her hands. “You have indeed grown into a handsome young man. The last time I saw you, you were still in leading strings. My husband and I were on the diplomatic mission in Turkey after that.”

He was so startled, he almost forgot to bow. “It is a pleasure to renew our acquaintance.”

He'd not known his mother and Lady Thornhill were friends, or that her husband was in the diplomatic corps. With his mother's relationship to the lady, he would not be able to leave early. Mama probably wouldn't go.

Lady Thornhill laughed. “I doubt you believe that at the present, but perhaps you will find some of the conversation interesting to you.” She gave him an arch look. “My husband and I are not as dreadful as some make us out to be.”

Caught and very neatly as well. He grinned. “It appears I have much to learn. However, my first interest is in finding a drawing master for my temporary ward. He's quite talented.”

The lady glanced around the room then stopped and squinted. “Aha.” She pointed to the far corner by a window “That group over there should do. They are all young artists hoping to make a success of their endeavors. If one of them is not interested, they will know someone who is.”

Dom bowed again. “If you will excuse me?”

“Of course. Best do it now. Your Miss Stern has not yet arrived.”

Warmth crept up his neck. Lady Thornhill was nothing if not direct. “Thank you, ma'am.”

She inclined her head and turned back to his mother as he made his way to the far end of the long drawing room.

A half an hour later, after questioning Dom closely about the boy's abilities, an artist by the name of John Martin agreed to give Tom lessons. Having accomplished his purpose, Dom bid the men a good day and started back through the crowd of people. He caught sight of Thea entering behind a handsome older woman with silver hair.

He was within a few feet of his affianced-wife, when Lady Thornhill cried out, “Your Grace. It is about time you visited me.”

Your Grace?
What was Thea doing with a duchess? She must be one of Grace's acquaintances.

The duchess's eyes twinkled, but she replied sternly, “Silvia, I find your manners no better than before you put your hair up.”

Lady Thornhill eyes misted as she grinned broadly. “I have missed you. We do not see nearly enough of you.”

The woman hugged Lady Thornhill. “Still a baggage.”

“Yes. Does it please you?”

“Indeed it does.” Her Grace motioned for Thea to come up. “I believe you have already met my granddaughter, Dorothea?”

Dom stopped, dumbstruck.

Granddaughter?
Thank God he had never suggested she needed to train as a marchioness. He would have looked a fool.